Sacrifices
by Moon-Tiger
Summary: Centres on Draco, his father, and Severus Snape. *Updated* Chapter 16 - The Game Begins
1. The Glamorous Life of Draco Malfoy

A/N: This is not only my first HP ff, but my first ff altogether. It's also the first thing I've written in years (yes, years), apart from a couple of creative writing exercises, essays for class, and my journal. Forgive me if my writing seems a little disjointed at first. I'll need time to get my rhythm.

Summary: Involves Draco Malfoy, primarily, along with Lucius, Snape, and possibly Harry. As for the plot, well, lets just take it as it comes, yeah? Timeline? I'd say we'll start at 5th year. Mostly I'll stick to the books as much as possible, but if I make alterations here and there if I think it will contribute to the story, I pray you'll forgive me.

I don't have a beta so if I make mistakes just let me know when (please?) you review. Suggestions and ideas are more than welcome, and if there's anyone out there interested in being a beta give me a yell: lisa_lily_jk@hotmail.com

Disclaimer: I don't own Draco. Or Snape. Or Lucius. In fact, the only thing I do own is the plot, and that's probably been done a hundred times before. :sighs: Oh well, we can't all be geniuses, now, can we? Please don't sue. The only thing I own is this computer, and that's on credit. Oh and my jeans, but they're falling apart anyway. :Nods: Yes, I'm a student.

Now that we're through with the boring stuff, on with the show!

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Sacrifices

Part One - The Glamorous Life of Draco Malfoy

Draco Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle with distaste. They were buffoons, really, he thought with disdain. As stupid as they were ugly... and that was no mean feat. Even so, he trudged down the corridor of Hogwarts Express and took the seat opposite them, sneering at a Gryffindor that happened to pass his way. Bloody Gryffindors. Was there anything worse? He doubted it.

He inclined his head slightly as he sat, in acknowledgement of his two cronies. They lifted their dopey heads and Goyle broke into a broad grin when he saw him. Draco grimaced and turned his head quickly, deciding the scene through his window was a much more pleasant sight than that of Goyle's beefy mug breaking out into that idiotic grin.

If he wanted proof, Malfoy thought to himself, that they were brainless, it was the fact that they practically worshipped him. He, Draco Malfoy, who was practically half their size. If they decided to, they could beat him senseless. They didn't though. They just followed him around like a couple of puppy dogs. When he abused them, they tried all the harder to please him. 'Remind you of anyone?' an infuriating voice asked from the back of his mind. 'Oh shut up. Just shut up' he thought. Whether it decided to obey him or simply decided it had said what it wanted to say, (probably the latter) the voice didn't return. Good.

"What didja do to your arm?"

Draco was snatched away from his musings. Crabbe was staring at his arm. Draco cursed himself. 'Good one, Draco' (ahh, so the voice had returned) 'You can't even remember to put a concealing charm on. No wonder that mudblood Granger manages to beat your arse in every class.' Draco moved his other hand protectively over the ugly-looking bruise and tried to hide his unease. "I bumped it. In the dark. At night. I was going to the bathroom. I was half asleep. Banged it on the bathroom door." For once Malfoy was glad that Crabbe and Goyle were so thick. They simply nodded their heads, before their attention turned to the sound of a cart in the corridor. It seemed at least some luck was with Draco. Any lingering questions about his bruised arm were quickly put aside as Crabbe and Goyle practically jumped from their seats, ready to fill their mouths and pockets with candy. 'Never seen them move so fast' thought Draco. 'Maybe if they put as much effort into thinking as they do eating, they'd give the mudblood a run for her money.' Crabbe and Goyle returned to their seats, chocolate already plastered across their faces. Draco scrunched up his face in disgust. He quickly cast a concealing charm on his arm, before returning his gaze to the spralling scenery racing past his window. 'Welcome to the glamorous life of Draco Malfoy' he thought bitterly... or was it that bloody voice again? The one that sounded disturbing like his father? He decided he really didn't give a shit. It was right, either way.

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Sorry it's so short (and the author's notes take up more room than the story - d'oh!). It's more of a prologue of sorts. I didn't have anything more I wanted to say at this point, and the next part will start after they've already begun their 5th year classes at Hogwarts. It seemed like too much of a jump to put it into this part. Review, review, review, and make an amateur fanfic writer smile. Can anyone guess what the title will mean? The person who gets it right gets a cookie.


	2. Of Hamsters and Ferrets

I still don't own anything except for the plot and dodgy dialogue. And my Jeans, of course.

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Sacrifices

Part Two - Of Hamsters and Ferrets

Transfiguration classes were a bore. Draco wished it were time for Potions lessons. After all, Snape was the only decent teacher in the school. He would have loved to see Ron Weasley mix up a basic potion. Or Longbottom blow himself up. Or Snape give that bloody Harry Potter an ear bashing. But instead he was stuck here, transforming a spoon into a Hamster. Where the hell was going to use that, anyway? Oh yeah, he's losing a fight with a dragon, but - never fear! He can turn the spoon that he happened to be carrying with him at the time, (cos let's face it, nobody leaves home without a spoon in their pocket) into a hamster. And the hamster can take out the dragon. Then he'll say 'oh, gee, I'm glad I was paying attention in transfiguration. That really saved my life!' Draco leaned back in his chair and yawned, stretching his arms out, closing his eyes, and sighed loudly.

"So sorry to have bored you, Master Malfoy"

Draco opened his eyes and realised that most of the eyes in the class were now focused on him. He could imagine Potter and his motley little gang sniggering at him.

"Perhaps if you are so bored with this lesson, you might care to give us a personal demonstration" Professor McGonagall continued, eyeing Draco sternly. He looked down at his hamster. It stared back indifferently. What was that woman talking about? He'd finished twenty minutes ago!

"I'm already done, Professor" He said, with all the self-rightousness he could muster. Professor McGonagall pursed her lips and shook her head in exasperation.

"We've all finished transfiguring the spoon to hamster - and back again" She said, looking at his hamster with disapproval. It still didn't look like it cared either way. "What we're doing now, and you'd know this if you were paying attention Mr Malfoy, is transfiguring a fork to a ferret"

Most of the Gryffindors were giggling. Malfoy looked around. Sure enough, the hamsters were gone. The spoons were in a basket out the front. Now the students had a fork sitting on their desks. Mudblood Granger, he noticed with annoyance, was the exception. She already had a ferret sitting placidly on her desk. Malfoy glared at her. She glared back with obvious pleasure, and then cast her eyes to the Hamster sitting on his own desk. A slight smirk formed on the corners of her mouth, and Draco felt a strong desire to throttle her.

"I suggest, Mr Malfoy, that you spend more time paying attention and less time daydreaming"

"Yes Professor McGonagall" He muttered. She turned away and he sneered after her. Biased Gryffindor cow. He looked down and grimaced at his hamster, who had fallen into a heavy sleep. 'Argh' he thought, before transfiguring it successfully back to spoon state and getting up to fetch himself a fork. If this was any indication, he was going to have one hell of a year.

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A/N: Argh! That one wasn't much longer at all! I think I'll have to wait to get into the story more before they get any longer.

I've been thinking about Snape being a spy, and how much Draco might know about his involvement with the Death Eaters. I assumed that Lucius had mentioned to Draco that Snape is (at least as far as he knows) still loyal to Lord Voldemorte. What I grappled with was whether Snape actually favoured Draco Malfoy, or whether he simply pretended to in order to make his position as a death eater more convincing. I'd like to know people's thoughts on the matter, because the way the story is progressing in my head, it'll be a rather important distinction later on. I really can't make up my mind on that. Maybe I missed something?


	3. Between a Rock and a Hard Place

A/N: Nope, still don't own a thing... still don't have any reviews, either. Oh well. I decided on my own that Snape does favour Malfoy genuinely, we'll get to more of that later.

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Sacrifices

Part Three - Between a Rock and a Hard Place

Draco's next few lessons passed like a blur. Contrary to what Professor McGonagall had advised him, he didn't pay attention in any of his classes. Instead he spent the entire afternoon's lessons daydreaming. Thankfully, he wasn't called upon to answer any questions by his other teachers. Draco accepted this as further testament that McGonagall had it in for him. She was, afterall, a Gryffindor.

Draco had to admit, though, he certainly enjoyed divination. There had, as usual. been a forecast of Harry Potter's demise, and although Draco had learnt by now that the Divination professor was nothing but a drama queen, there was still something soothing about hearing that Saint Potter was going to die a terrible, terrible death. He'd come close a few times, nobody could dispute that. Perhaps he'd get lucky and the prophecy would come true... although he would, afterall, have to be extremely lucky.

Yet it was with hope that Draco Malfoy strode towards Professor Snape's classroom. Even if Malfoy lucked out and Potter didn't die, at least he could be assured he'd be yelled at and humiliated in potions. That was infinately comforting.

Draco strode into the classroom and sat between Goyle and Crabbe. He didn't bother to say hello. 'The thickheads probably wouldn't understand me anyway' he thought. If they noticed his arrival, they gave no indication. They simply sat there, with a blank look on their faces. Draco looked sideways and scowled. Weasle, the mudblood and Potter were laughing about something. He glanced back to his own two companions (lapdogs) and groaned inwardly. He thought Potter would have been in a more subdued mood, with confrontation with Snape just minutes away. But no, here he was laughing with his little girlfriend and the weasle, as if nothing were wrong.

'Easy for you, Potter' he thought bitterly. 'Everybody adores the little Potty. Merlin! He had it so easy. The entire school were in awe of him just because of something he did as a baby. 'We can't forget the Sorcerer's Stone, Chamber of Secrets, or the Triwizard Tournament, and of course defeating Voldemorte yet again, now can we?'. The infuriating little voice was back with a vengeance. "Shove it" he muttered under his breath.

"Huh?"

It was Goyle. So he noticed me afterall, Draco mused.

"I was just saying McGonogall can take her bloody ferret and shove it"

Goyle laughed, and his shoulders heaved up and down. Draco doubted whether Crabbe had heard the conversation, but soon he too was laughing. It was pathetic, Draco thought, but puffed out his chest with pride all the same and plastered a trademark smirk on his face. 'See Potter?' he thought 'You're not the only one who can crack up a room'.

It was at that moment that the doors to the classroom swung open, and in stalked Professor Snape, looking as daunting and vehement as ever.

"Open your text books to page three-forty-five. The ingredients are on the front desk, I expect you to have it finished by the end of the lesson."

Draco opened the text book in a vaguely interested way and glanced at the potion described.

Revelio: This potion is an alternative to the popular spell. It has the same effects, but in a much more potent form. All concealing charms are broken when this potion is ingested. The only drawback to its higher potency is that it can only be used on living things. The Revelio Potion was originally created by...

Draco felt a sick feeling rise in his stomach. His arm, what about his arm? But maybe they wouldn't actually use them. Perhaps they would just make them then - what? Just tip it out again? He glanced back at the ingredients list. Some of them were relatively expensive. They wouldn't just waste them. But maybe they were planning on keeping a batch in the storerooms just in case they're needed at a later time. He needed to know.

"Professor?" He drawled, rasing his hand slightly, this basic courtesy an odd site coming from Draco. Certainly he wouldn't extend the same manners to any other teacher. Snape turned around, and as his eyes fell on Malfoy his predetory glance fell away and became - not warm - it was difficult to imagine Snape's gaze ever being warm, but certainly less-cold.

"Yes Malfoy?" he asked in an almost pleasantly polite tone

"The potions - we're not actually going to use them, are we?" he asked, and cringed at the almost desperate sound that had crept into his voice. Snape looked momentarily confused, then regained his stoic expression and answered in a flat tone,

"Why, of course. Surely you didn't think we would simply waste it?" 

Malfoy flushed, but was at least comforted by that fact that Snape's voice, usually dripping with sarcasm, seemed simply casually inquiring.

"Of course not, sir. I just thought you may be making a batch for the school storage or something to that effect" he said in a suprisingly relaxed tone. Snape seemed pleased. He smirked, winking at him conspiritorily.

"No, Master Malfoy, I would have liked to, but I can't think of anything offhand that the students at this school did to warrant the misfortune of having to ingest something Longbottom brewed" Longbottom blushed and looked downwards in embaressment. Harry Potter glared at Snape.

"Detention, Potter, don't ever stare at me that way again. You're lucky I didn't take house points.

Draco would normally have been grinning wildly right now, but the joy of seeing Potter knocked off his little throne was tainted by his trepidation about the revealing potion. On the train he had been wearing long sleeves. Crabbe had only seen the bottom of his arm when the sleeve had rolled back slightly. Today, feeling assured because of the concealing spell, Draco had worn short sleeves. It would be easy to explain away a bruise or two on his arm. But what would he do when someone saw that the bruises trailed all the way up both his arms? Draco shifted nervously. He could say he was sick, but then Snape would send him to Madam Pomfrey. Would she cast a Revelis spell anyway? Would Snape simply ask him to drink the potion before he left? He couldn't discount it. All in all, he was in between a rock and a hard place, as the saying goes.

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Please read and review. It takes but a moment and can brighten an author's day. Aww...


	4. Mistakes, Mudbloods and Worthiness

A/N: Huge thankyou to Oblivion and Ivory Tower for their encouraging reviews.

I just realised that my email account is full and is bounce-bounce-bouncing from here to the moon and back. If you try to talk to me that way it won't work.

Oh, and forgive me if my sarcasm comes into play. Sometimes I just cannot help myself (I suspect that I'm a slytherin at heart... perhaps that's why I have a soft spot for Draco and Snape.) Oh and for the record, I like Harry, Ron and especially Hermione. But Draco doesn't, and when I'm writing from his point of view I can't very well see them in a good light. At least for now.

Still don't own Draco and Co. Damn.

Summary of events so far (just imagine a cheesy voiceover): When we last saw Draco he was in a bit of a fix. In potions class he was required to create a Revelio Potion, breaking any concealing charms. This would normally not be a big deal. Except Draco has a secret. He has mysterious bruising on his arms, hidden by a concealing charm. Will Draco's secret be revealed? Or wil he be able to find a way out? 

Ohhh, Dramatic.

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Sacrifices

Part Four - Mistakes, Mudbloods and Worthiness

Draco shifted uneasily. He brewed his potion in silence. What could he do? He knew that as soon as he finished he would have to drink it. Then what? People would see. Perhaps his secret wouldn't come out. Perhaps he would be able to make up some sort of cover story. That he simply got in a fight. It wasn't hard to believe. Afterall, almost everyone outside of Slytherin (and a few inside, no doubt) had thought about giving him a a few well-placed bruises. But anyone who knew the slightest thing about bruises would be able to tell that they didn't all occur at the one time. Whilst some were still an angry blue or purple, others were yellowed and fading. It didn't take a genius to figure that they didn't come about from a single incident. What could he say then? 'Oh, um, I got into a fight, and instead of using magic, I decided to just let them keep hitting me. Then I went back the next night. And the night after that. And the night after that..." Oh God, this wasn't good. Not good at all. What would his father do if he let people fine out? What would -

Draco jerked his head up as the sound of an explosion hit his ears. He turned to his left and saw Longbottom, his face charred and his desk covered in charcoal. He sneered, but couldn't be bothered thinking up a smart-arse remark.

"Detention, 10 points from Gryffindor. You'd better have that cleaned up before end of class, Longbottom, or it'll be 50" Snape remarked smoothly, not even glancing up from the book he was reading. Longbottom looked devastated as he began wiping down his table, earning sympathetic expressions from Ron, Harry and Hermione.

Draco made a point of leering at that fool Longbottom, before diverting his attention back to his own potion. And back to thinking about all the ways his father could punish him for revealing 'family matters' in public. Meanwhile, Longbottom had finished cleaning up his desk in remarkable time (funny, the things you can do when you're terrified) but still hadn't even attempted to clean himself up. Snape still had his head buried in his book and didn't notice Longbottom's trembling fingers held in the air. Potter did, however, and cleared his throat in an attempt to rouse the Professor's attention.

"Five points, Potter" Drawled Snape and Harry blinked in shock. Nevertheless, Snape did indeed look up, so all was not lost, he supposed.

"Yes Longbottom?"

"Professor, Sir, will I brew up another potion?" he asked meekly, lowering his hands and wringing them together under the desk. Snapes eyes drifted down and a smirk appeared at the corners of his mouth as he became aware of exactly how nervous the boy was.

"No, Neville, I think you've done quite enough damage for one day. There's always tomorrow, after all" he replied, the smirk leaving his face and being replaced by a dangerous snarl. Longbottom gulped nervously, and underneath the table his knuckles were white with tension. He didn't even notice. Snape did, however, and turned back to his book with an air of satisfaction. 'Gryffindors' he thought to himself.

Meanwhile, Draco's eyes lit up as comprehension dawned. All he'd have to do is mess up the potion! He could just add a few more drops here and there, add an extra ingredient, remove another. Surely it wouldn't still work, then. Not if he managed to make a lot of 'mistakes'. Obviously, it would be suspicious. Potions was, after all, his best subject, and this was a pretty easy potion. Hell, even Weasley managed to get it right. But surely it wouldn't be as suspicious as his arms appearing with bruises of all the colours of the rainbow. Of course not. He nodded, suddenly sure of himself, and a heavy weight seemed to lift from his shoulders. His muscles relaxed, releasing the tension he hadn't even realised they contained. Then he grabbed the various bottles on the table and started adding them haphazardly to his flask. He was going to get through it ok, he thought to himself in dizzy relief. And I'm never going to be so stupid again, he added. From now on, if he had bruises, he was wearing long robes, concealing charm or not. He wasn't going to risk being put into this situation again. He recieved a few inquiring glances from nearby Slytherins and when he looked torward the Gryffindors his noticed that Hermione had already finished, and was watching him with an incredulous expression on her face. "See something green, mudblood?" he asked and Hermione narrowed her eyes and looked quickly away. Ron was flushed red with anger and the hand holding his flask was shaking with tension. "I wouldn't hold that flask quite so tightly, Weasley, you might break it. After all, we wouldn't want your father to have to take up another job to pay for it, would we?" Draco drawled calmly, his lnfamous smirk once again reappearing. Ron abruptly put down his flask and looked to be about to get up when Hermione's vice-like grip on his shoulder stopped him. 

"It's not worth it, Ron." She said softly, then turned her gaze to Malfoy. She seemed contrastingly calm next to Ron, who was still trembling and red-faced with anger. "You're not worth it, Malfoy" She said in a cool, detatched, yet unnervingly effective tone. Several Slytherins and Gryffindors looked at her in suprise. Malfoy tried to keep his expression impassive, but unbeknownst even to Hermione, the words had sent a jolt to his system. 'You're not worth it, Malfoy' his father's voice told him with glee. 'Not worth it. Not at all. Even a filthy mudblood recognises scum when they see it'. He tried desperately to hold onto his blank expression. He managed. He turned back to his potion and continued mixing his potion, albeit with less vigour. He made sure he at least looked like he was being careful. He didn't want to attract anymore attention. He should have thought of that in the first place, he thought, and mentally scolded himself for his recklessness. Now it would look even more suspicious when his potion suddenly went wrong. Both the Slytherins and a handfull of Gryffindors had seen him mixing his potion in an almost intentionally random way. 'Draco strikes again' he thought miserably.

Snape hadn't said a word throughout the little spat with Hermione and the faithful sidekicks. Yet he had heard every word, and usually he would have punished all three. But he had also heard Draco refer to her as a 'mudblood'. If he punished one, he would have to punish Draco as well, probably moreso than the others. So instead he pretended ignorance, keeping his eyes glued to the book, and flicking a page when he thought it appropriate. He finally looked up when the Granger girl had finished her little retort and was suprised when he saw a flash of pain cross Draco's features before the stoic expression returned and Draco went back to mixing his potion. Snape furrowed his brow slightly. Shouldn't Malfoy have finished is potion by now? Practically everyone in the class had, even some of the thicker students (except for Crabbe and Goyle, who were still looking at their books with confusion, Goyle scratching his head in an almost Simian way which made Snape want to grimace and smirk at the same time.) so why on earth hadn't Malfoy finished his? The crease in his brow furrowed even more, before he shook his head, shrugged his shoulders and directed his attention back to the book. He realised he had lost his place when he had been pretending to read whilst listening to the little fray between Malfoy and Granger. He curled a lip, then shut the book with a loud thud. All eyes in the classroom focused on him (many with a nervousness that made Snape want to laugh) and he stood up in what he hoped was a daunting pose. He needn't have worried. It was. All the Gryffindors unconsciously held their breath, while the Slytherins looked slightly in awe of him.

"That's it. I want you all to drink your potions. Is there anyone who isn't ready?" he asked, directing a questioning glance to Malfoy. Malfoy looked back and inclined is head, a motion encouraging the Professor to continue. "Very well" Snape said, "Off you go."

The class did as was asked. For most, nothing happened. Hermione, Ron and Harry included. However, a couple of students quickly moved their hands to their faces, as concealing charms were removed and pimples, warts and moles were revealed. Pansy Parkinson was one of them and a few Gryffindor girls stifled giggles behind their hands when they saw the huge pimple standing on the tip of her nose. Her hands (which now revealed fingernails bitten to the quick) moved protectively over it, and Pansy asked to be excused. Snape rolled his eyes before motioning her away with the flick of his wrist, and a couple of girls and a Slytherin boy discreetly followed.

For Malfoy, it seemed that nothing was going to happen. His bruises hadn't returned, thankfully, and so far there hadn't been any symptoms of adverse side effects. Malfoy breathed a sigh of relief, but it quickly turned into a groan as seering pain shot throgh his head. He moaned and slumped on the table. He could vaguely hear hushed whispers and Professor Snape's voice. He sounded urgent, but Draco couldn't make out exactly what he was saying. Then, as quickly as it had begun, the pain stopped. He lifted his head from the desk and looked about him. Concerned expressions turned to smirks, and Draco could hear Ron Weasley and Harry Potter begin to laugh. Snape, who was gazing at something just above his head, said nothing, but looked confused. Then he returned his eyes to Draco's.

"Malfoy" he said carefully "You used too much Rabbititus"

"Huh?" asked Draco, and glared at Ron as he began to laugh uncontrollably. He moved his hands up to his head and sucked in a hiss of breath. Oh Merlin, no. He shoved the potion bottles off the tray they were sitting on and stared into thw mirror-like surface.

"Oh shit. Oh Merlin"

He had Bunny ears. Pink, fluffy bunny ears

"Malfoy, to the hospital wing" Snape said wearily, shaking his head as he returned to his desk. "Class dismissed. Oh and Weasley - 20 points from Gryffindor"

Malfoy trudged down to the hospital wing feeling the amused glances from everyone he passed. 'Wait till father hears about this' he thought with a groan.

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:sighs: Y'know I actually intended this chapter to finish on a rather dark note. But I just couldn't help myself. Has the bunny ears thing been done before? I'm sure I read something like it once, but I just can't remember. It's late and my memory goes on hiatus when I get tired. Anyhow, if it has, just call me Queen of Recycled Ideas (and tell me so I can give credit) and if not, well, there you go.

The next chapter will be posted as soon as I get more reviews. :Nods: yes, I'm aware that's blackmail, but I'm really interested in what people did/didn't like so I know how to improve. I think in the next chapter Snape will start to get suspicious of Draco's little 'mistake' and who knows, there might even be some one-on-one snape/draco scenes. I've got no intention of making this slash, by the way. I read it, but don't write it.

Anyhow, tell me how I did.


	5. Out of the Boiling Pot and into the Fire

A/N: Here we go again. I don't own the characters. I don't own the books. Or the movies. I own nothing... and I'm sure that by now you're sick of hearing about my jeans...

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Sacrifices

Part Five - Out of the Boiling Pot and Into the Fire

Severus Snape couldn't concentrate. His eyes repeatedly read the same paragraph over and over, only to realise after he'd finished that he hadn't absorbed a single word. His mind kept wandering to the previous lesson. How had Draco Malfoy managed to mess up such a simple potion? And to such a degree? If he had simply sprouted whiskers, he wouldn't have been concerned. Suprised, yes. Disappointed? Naturally. But to grow a complete set of rabbit ears? He would have had to have added at least five times the directed amount, and that was a conservative estimate. He ran a hand through his hair and slumped his shoulders. He was perplexed. Shaking the thoughts from his head, he opened his top drawer, removed a stack of paper amd began preparing for his next class.

..........

"Here. Drink this. Rabbit ears, of all the things..." Madam Pomfrey muttered, fluttering about Draco's bed. Draco took the medicine glass she held out to him and looked at it with reluctance. It looked simply awful. Brown in colour, bubbling and popping, with bits of green gunk floating on the top. Pomfrey stood before him, hands on hips as if daring him to challenge her. He took one look at the determination in her eyes and decided (grudgingly) that perhaps it would be easier if he just swallowed the vile mixture. He held it up to his lips and prepared himself for its assault. And so he was pleasantly suprised when the liquid that met his lips was refreshingly cool, sweet, and genuinely delicious. He finished swallowing the contents of the glass and was slightly disappointed when there was none left. Pomfrey eyed him, straight-faced, but with a hint of satisfaction in her eyes.

"Not as awful as it looked, was it?" she asked

"No" admitted Draco.

"Perhaps you should remember that lesson, Master Malfoy" she said, looking at him sternly, while pulling down the covers on a nearby bed. "Not everything is at it seems from the outside"

Malfoy was nonplussed. He'd just been humiliated in front of his entire class, and they were undoubtedly informing the whole school. Not to mention that he'd managed to look like an absolute fool in front of Professor Snape. The last thing he wanted, or needed for that matter, he told himself, was to be lectured. Madam Pomfrey didn't say anything more until she had finished with the bed. She then poured another glass of the disgusting-looking-yet-beautiful-tasting liquid. He eyed it, his mouth suddenly coming alive again in anticipation of the sweet taste. She glanced at him and shook her head.

"You'll be staying here for the night, Malfoy, and depending on how you are in the morning, possibly tomorrow as well. Don't drink this till tonight. Just before ten. I'll come and remind you in case you forget. Don't drink it before then, mind. If you have too much you could just make it worse."

Malfoy nodded obediently. The prospect of spending the night in the hospital wing didn't particularly appeal to him, but when you considered the alternative: Having to go out and face the embaressment, watch the satisfaction on the Gryffindor's faces (not to mention Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff who would be laughing about it probably at this very moment) and face up to Professor Snape's disgusted glare (and he was suprised to find that this seemed to be the worst of the lot) ...it all seemed too much for him tonight. So all in all, he was rather relieved that he would be spending the night here, safely away from the snickers and accusing glances. Besides, he was feeling increasingly sleepy, and that bed was looking more and more appealing. He stifled a yawn unsuccessfully and Madam Pomfrey's stern expression softened.

"Feeling sleepy? Yes, sometimes this potion can have that effect. I'll ask your head teacher to bring you down some comfortable bedwear and anything you might need. You're a Slytherin, yes?"

Malfoy nodded meekly. The prospect of seeing Professor Snape was incredibly daunting. How would he explain messing up such a simple potion? Madam Pomfrey looked him over once more nodded to herself, obviously satisfied, before turning and walking briskly out the door. Malfoy sighed. This was just bloody brilliant. Out of the boiling pot and into the fire.

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Just a quickie (ignore the innuendo) cos I'm really tired and I'm about to go sleep it's 5:30 AM and I haven't been to sleep yet. :sighs:. I've got the next few chapters mapped out in my mind. Snape will, indeed, become more suspicious, but that's all I'll say about that. Also, this fic is gonna be long. What I've got so far is barely an introduction. I've got this idea for a grand climax to the story. An image and a scene, and I'm gradually steering this torwards that. But it's a long, long way off. Rather daunting actually, but I can't help thinking big. Oh, and sorry about the cliches "between a rock and a hard place, out of the boiling pot into the fire..." if you know me you'd know that using overly worn cliches is part of my twisted sense of humour. I like stupidifying myself, sometimes.


	6. Suspicions

A/N: Thankyou to Yanagi-sen, Me, Dilan and Ivory Tower for reviewing. I wasn't sure whether I'd write something tonight, but you motivated me.

I went back and fixed a few typos in previous chapters, but there's probably more.

Disclaimer: Don't own a thing. Nada.

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Sacrifices

Part Six - Suspicions

Snape strode into Draco's quarters. Crabbe and Goyle were sitting on their beds eating chocolate cake. Snape ignored them while he opened Draco's drawers and removed clothing and other items Malfoy would need that night and tomorrow. He packed it into a plastic bag then turned to leave the room. He paused for a moment and turned back to face the two imbeciles (who were finished their cake and had graduated to cream-filled spiders) he looked at them with ill-disguised distate before clearing his throat. They looked up at him.

"I'm taking these things down to Malfoy. If you want to visit him, I'd suggest you came with me now. I doubt Madam Pomfrey will let you in at a later time"

They looked at him, turned to each other, shrugged their shoulders, and looked at the cream-spiders in their hands. Snape groaned.

"You can take those with you"

Their faces lit up with pleasure and they stuffed some chocolate and candy into their pockets before standing up and following Snape to the hospital wing. Snape considered asking the two if they had noticed anything suspicious about Draco's mixing of his potion that morning, but decided against it. They probably wouldn't have noticed the rabbit ears if the class hadn't brought their attention to it by laughing. He shook his head in exasperation as he led them to the door and walked through.

Draco was lying on the bed, though he wasn't asleep. He decided that the least he could do is wait for Professor Snape to bring down his nightclothes. 'Oh wow, Draco' he thought 'You can keep your eyes open. How impressive'. Even so he made sure that he remained alert and conscious, despite the effects of the potion Madam Pomfrey had prescribed. When the door opened he sat up and saw Snape's tall, daunting figure fill the door frame. He eyed Draco with an impassive expression, not giving anything away. Then he walked through the threshold and Draco realised that he wasn't alone. Crabbe and Goyle entered the room, their mouths full as usual and Draco grimaced when Crabbe said hello, his mouth offering a full view of half-chewed food and a stream of spittle flying from his mouth. Draco was thankful he wasn't any closer. Despite himself, though, he was glad they came. Of course he would never admit it, even to himself, but he was jealous of the tight friendships some of the other students (Potter, Granger, Weasley) had with each other.

"Master Malfoy, I have your things" Snape said, offering the bag out to Draco. He took it without looking inside and sat it on the table beside his bed. He murmered an embaressed 'thanks' and looked down at his hands. He was more than a little ashamed, and he couldn't stand to stare into Snape's dark eyes right now.

Snape paused, wondering how to continue, feeling slightly awkward at the boy's obvious discomfort. He considered just walking away and leaving it at that, but he stopped himself and decided to ask the question that had been plaguing him all afternoon.

"Malfoy," he said in an expressionless voice, "How, exactly, did you manage to put at least five times the directed amount of Rabititus in your potion?"

Snape watched Malfoy carefully as the boy squirmed under his gaze.

"I wasn't feeling well, sir, I was tired, and I guess I got a little mixed up." Draco spluttered, still not daring to look Snape in the face. He hoped that Snape would accept it and not question him further.

Snape opened his mouth, as if to enquire further, but then shut it again. He didn't believe Malfoy's excuse for a second, but he sensed that he would be getting nowhere if he continued his line of questioning. He pursed his lips in frustration, eyeing the boy in front of him.

"Well, you'll get plenty of rest tonight, I'm sure, he said, eyeing the potion which was still bubbling next to his bed. "Hopefully you'll be better by tomorrow and you can redo your Revilio Potion then" he added.

Draco looked up immediately, dismayed. Redo it, ho thought. Of course. Why didn't he think of that? Snape may not let Longbottom redo his potion, but that didn't mean he wouldn't want Malfoy to. He saw Snape watching him intently and quickly removed all expression from his face. Unfortunately for him, Snape had noticed the brief panic, and he frowned in confusion.

"Is there something you're not telling me, Malfoy?" He asked. Draco quickly shook his head. "Then you won't mind redoing the potion?" Draco shook his head again. "Good" said Snape. He watched Malfoy a moment longer, before abruptly turning and walking out the door. He turned back and looked at Crabbe and Goyle. "I think you should come back to the dorms, too. I doubt Madam Pomfrey would be enthralled if she caught you two here".

Crabbe and Goyle shrugged and nodded, heaving themselves up from the chairs they had pulled over (and Snape was rather suprised they had the brain power to think of that). Goyle mumbled a goodbye in between mouthfuls of jelly slugs, and Goyle clapped Draco on the arm, a little harder than Draco was expecting. He winced before he could stop himself and Goyle looked embaressed.

"Sorry" He mumbled "I forgot about your arm"

Draco kept his face devoid of expression and Crabbe shrugged and moved away. Both Crabbe and Goyle moved past Snape, through the door and down the corridor, munching all the while. Snape watched Malfoy with a furrowed brow.

"Night, Malfoy" he said, then closed the door behind him without waiting for an answer. As he strode down the corridor he felt even more confused than ever. Why did Malfoy seem so reluctant to finish the potion? Was it because he thought he might get it wrong again? Or... or did he get it wrong in the first place because he didn't want to finish it? Did he get it wrong on purpose? If so, why? To stop it from revealing something, obviously. But what? Draco Malfoy was certainly a little vain. All the Malfoys were. But surely he wouldn't sabotage his own experiment so people wouldn't see a mole or pimple. Snape shook his head. No, not even Pansy Parkinson had attempted that. But what, then? His mind drifted to what Crabbe had said before he left. 'Sorry, forgot about your arm' - so Draco had a sore arm. Snape frowned. He hadn't noticed any signs or bruises, scratches or cuts on him in the potions lesson today. It couldn't be a broken bone, because he wouldn't have been able to use it. Unless... Snape stopped abruptly. Unless he was hiding it with a concealing potion. That would explain why he messed up his experiment, and why he was panicked when he found out he had to redo it. Snape looked around, indecisive. Perhaps he should go back and ask him about it right now. He almost moved to turn back, but then remembered the tired look on the boy's face. He'd probably be asleep already. He decided, instead, to come see him in the morning. He would bring the ingredients to him, make up some excuse as to why he needed it done right away, then make sure he did the potion correctly. He wouldn't have any choice but to swallow it, and then he'd find out once and for all if his suspicions were correct. He nodded, satisfied, then continued on his way to the Slytherin dorms.

Meanwhile, Draco was hurriedly going through Madam Pomfrey's medicine cabinet. He looked from potion to potion and sighed with relief as he found 'Bruise-be-gone' he turned the bottle over and read the back 'Bruise-be-gone: heals superficial bruises as well as minor scrapes, cuts and abrasions. Take one teaspoon of bruise-be-gone and watch as bruises vanish within minutes'. Perfect. Draco removed a spoon from a stack bundled together on a lower shelf, measured out a teaspoon, and swallowed the liquid. Unlike the other, this tasted bitter and unpleasant. Draco screwed up his face, before replacing the bottle and throwing the spoon in the bin across the room. He then changed into his pajamas, climbed into bed, and slept soundly and contentedly.

----

There we go. Good ol' Draco's secret is safe for the time being. Despite evidence to the contrary, when Lucius comes into the story I won't make him a complete vicious monster who has no redeemable qualities whatsoever. I really dislike it when people make a character 'bad' and just leave it at that. For me, a villain is scarier when he/she has a human side. And it won't all focus around the whole 'poor little abused draco' thing. There will be a plot, and subplots, but I have to set the grounding for the story before I can get into that.

Next chapter? I really don't know. Snape will have to test his theory about Draco, but with Draco taking the bruise-be-gone, what will happen? I've got an inkling, but I don't know for sure.


	7. Unanswered Questions and Confusion

A/N: Thankyou to Elendil Snape, YG, Aeryn Alexander, Shannon and Ivory Tower for their reviews. It means a lot :)

Disclaimer: as we all know, I'm not JK Rowling, and I don't own the characters. Or the books. Movies, anything at all. This is just for fun. I like my jeans.

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Sacrifices 

Part Seven - Unanswered Questions and Confusion

`~`  
1

Draco awoke to the sounds of footsteps. For a moment or two disorientation took hold, and he wondered where he was. The room certainly didn't look like the Slytherin dorms. But then the events of the last day returned. He hurriedly moved his hands to his head and was relieved to discover that all traces of the extra set of ears had disappeared.

"Yes, Master Malfoy, the potion was successful. You can have breakfast, then see how you feel. If you're still tired you can have another rest"

So it was Madam Pomfrey's footsteps that had awoken him. Draco yawned and attempted to rub the traces of sleep from his eyes. He opened them and took his bag from the desk beside him. The medicine glass was still there, but it was now empty. He blinked in suprise. He couldn't remember drinking it. Had he? As far as he could remember, he had gone directly to bed after taking the Bruise-be-gone. Of course he had changed his clothes, but had he remembered to take the other potion? He didn't think so. Madam Pomfrey, meanwhile, was fussing about him, fluffing up his pillows, and practically pushing him down into a lying position again. Draco almost told the woman to sod off, but restrained his sharp tongue, and instead decided to ask her about the mystery of the empty glass.

"You don't remember taking it?" She asked, then shook her head and tut-tutted. "My, my, you must have been tired. You were sleeping when I came around, just before ten o'clock, like I told you. I woke you up, and you drank it. You weren't exactly coherent, mind, but I thought you'd remember"

"I must have still been half-asleep" offered Draco. Madam Pomfrey nodded.

"Indeed. Now, I'll fix you some breakfast, then we'll see if you can go or stay"

"I'll go" said Draco quickly. The prospect of facing the other students didn't appeal today and more than it had the night before, but it had to be done, and he knew that the longer he waited the more nervous he would become. Besides, he didn't have to worry about Potions class anymore. He was eager to do the potion again - perfect, this time - so he could win back Professor Snape's respect.

"We'll see" replied Madam Pomfrey, after a moment's pause. Then she bustled out the door. She paused, and poked her had back in.

"Anything in particular you'd like?"

"Umm, dragon eggs and bacon?" asked draco, hopefully. Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips.

"I'll bring some fruit and cereal" she said, and walked away, not noticing (or choosing to ignore) the scowl on Draco's face.

"Crazy old bat" Draco muttered, before opening his bag, taking out a toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo and bar of soap. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and walked into the bathroom.

`~`  
2

Severus Snape walked into his classroom and opened one of the cupboards. He removed what he needed, shut the doors with a deliberately loud thud, removed an empty flask from a box on his desk, and placed it and the various potions on a silver tray. Then he walked out of the room, using his foot to kick the doors open, smirking slightly at the loud thud as they closed, echoing through the corridor. He liked to be dramatic.

`~`  
3

When Draco emerged from the bathroom, his breakfast was waiting for him. He eyed it with slight distaste, thinking longingly of the feast the other students would be having. Still, he supposed it was better than nothing, and he was rather hungry, afterall. He realised that he hadn't eaten last night. He wondered why. Perhaps it had something to do with side effects to the potion. He shrugged, then sat back on the bed, and pulled the tray onto his knees. He was almost finished when he heard the doors open. He wouldn't have looked up, assuming it was Madam Pomfrey, but the doors didn't just open. They flew open. He looked up and he mouth fell open in suprise as Professor Snape strode into the room, his robes swishing behind him.

"Malfoy, please shut your mouth. I'm not at all interested in seeing what you had for breakfast"

Draco felt his face flush hot with embaressment. He shut his mouth with a snap, and looked down at his food for moment, trying to regain his composure. He then looked up when he was no longer flustered and looked Snape in the face.

"Professor Snape, what are you doing here?"

Snape motioned with his head to the tray he was carrying.

"This isn't a social call, Malfoy. I need you to do the Revelio Potion now. All the other students have finished. I can't make them do it again, and I can't have you falling behind, either. Today's potion is a lot more difficult and I'll need your full attention. So you'll have to do it now."

Snape watched Malfoy's face intently. He expected to see some sort of unease after seeing the boy's reaction last night. And so it was suprising (and more than a little confusing) when Malfoy simply smiled - yes, smiled, it wasn't even his usual smug smirk - and nodded.

"Fine with me, sir. Mind if I just finish breakfast first?"

Snape curled his lip, and Malfoy evidently decided that breakfast could wait. He pushed the tray to the end of his bed, and made room for the one Snape was holding. Draco looked at the various chemicals, and went through each step of the potion in his mind before starting. He wanted to prove to Snape that he was fully capable of the task. He needed to show him that just because he messed up once didn't mean that he was about to do it again. He was still his best student. Better than the mudblood, even.

Snape watched as Malfoy seemed to be thinking intently. For moment he misinterpreted it. He thought that perhaps Malfoy didn't know what he was doing afterall. He suprised himself by feeling almost relieved. It was such a simple answer. He just honestly didn't know how to brew it. But then the boy opened a bottle, and began mixing it. Correctly. Perfectly. To the last drop. One of the best things about the potion was that it left room for mistakes. It was hard to mess up, even if you added a little more than was needed, or left a drop or two out. That was why it was deemed so simple. Yet Draco didn't only get it approximately right. He mixed the potion with a precision that made Snape silently applaud him.

"That's quite sufficient, Malfoy" He commented, though tonelessly. Malfoy's face relaxed and broke into a small grin.

"Now all you need to do is to try it" he added. He once again expected Malfoy to attempt to avoid drinking it, but once again he was proved wrong. Draco took the glass, held it to his lips and drank till there wasn't a drop left. Snape eyed him curiously for any changes. None occured. Nothing. No pimples, moles, warts. Not a blemish at all, actually. He stayed completely the same. This was another confusing development.

"Crabbe mentioned your arm was sore." he said, and this time was rewarded with a slight change in the boy's demeanor. He wouldn't have noticed at all, if he hadn't been looking for it. Malfoy's eyes widened slightly, and his lip twitched, but as quickly as it occured it disappeared and Malfoy's face returned to its usual expression (though he noted it was absent of most of its usual smugness).

"What's wrong with it?" he asked, and Draco's yes moved downward. Lying was easy when it was to someone he didn't like. Which meant that lying was easy almost all the time. But when it was to someone he respected, he hated it.

"I pulled a muscle practicing for Quidditch." The lie was easy, simple. It made sense. So why did he feel so damn rotten?

"I see. Would you like me to take a look at it, then?" asked Snape, but Malfoy quickly shook his head.

"It's fine now, sir. Madam Pomfrey gave me something for it last nght, and it's healed today."

Snape stared at him a moment longer, then started gathering up the potions. He lifted the tray.

"Very well. You received an 'A' for the potion, by the way. It would have been 'A+' if you'd got it right the first time. Nevertheless, it's still equal first." he said. "Funny," he added "How much a simple nights rest can do. One day you manage to mess it up completely, the next day you manage to put in an effort that I doubt I could top"

Draco stared at him, open-mouthed. Did he just say what he thought he said?

"I think you've been hanging around with Crabbe and Goyle a little too much. You're developing a rather nasty habit"

"Huh?"

"Close your mouth"

"Oh" Draco obediently did as he was told. Snape said nothing more. He simply turned his back on him and walked out in much the same way as he had walked in. With gusto and drama. Draco watched the doors slam closed and felt a surge of pride course through him. He came equal first with Granger. His mouth twisted into a wide grin. Take that, you bloody mudblood, he thought with pleasure. He couldn't wait to tell his father. Surely he'd be proud of him then.

`~`  
4

Snape was striding down the corridor when Madam Pomfrey's form came into view. He passed her with a nod of the head, and walked another two or three steps when he abruptly turned back round.

"Poppy?"

She turned and gave him a questioning glance.

"Yes?"

"What did you give Draco for his arm?"

She looked confused.

"Arm? What arm would that be?"

"His arm. He hurt it in Quidditch practice?"

"Don't know what you're talking about, Professor. But quidditch practice doesn't start till next week."

Snape blinked. Of course it didn't.

"Is something wrong, Professor?"

Snape shook his head. "No, it's fine. Thankyou, Poppy." And with that, he was back on his way. He wasn't in a very good mood. At least fifth year potions was his first lesson. He could let loose a little steam on Potter and his friends. He scowled to himself. How was it that he had more unanswered questions and confusion than when he woke up that morning? He strode into his classroom and found the class talking amongst themselves, Granger, Weasley and Potter among them. The class was instantly silent when he entered the room, but the damage had been done.

"Granger, Weasley, Potter, five points from Gryffindor. I won't tolerate talking out of turn in my class"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other and groaned. It was going to be an long lesson.

----

There we go, folks. Another installment from my twisted little psyche for your enjoyment. R/R and make me smile.

Next chapter? Don't know, really. I just hope it comes out as easily as this one did (this one pretty much wrote itself, which was a relief for me. The last chapter took a lot more work from my part). Maybe I'll bring Lucius into it soon. But it probably won't be next chapter, though. Quidditch will start soon (hurrah) and maybe that'll be when Lucius comes into it.


	8. Meltdown

A/N: Back again. I want to thank Angelika, Super Q and Ivory Tower (thanks for reviewing again and again) who took the time to review. I appreciate it, and this is for all who reviewed so far, and who will review in the future (hint hint). Aww, group hug.

Disclaimer: I think we've established by now that I own absolutely nothing.

Jeans.

The rating for this story goes up this chapter. Rather strong language. It's not pointless, though. I didn't just say F*#k, f*#k f*#k for fun. I used it because if I had used any other word, it wouldn't have had the intended effect. Our Draco becomes a little emotional in this chapter.

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Sacrifices

Part Eight - Meltdown

`~`  
1

Madam Pomfrey entered the room about two minutes after Professor Snape had left. Draco had a rather difficult time convincing her that he was quite well enough to leave. She seemed to think that perhaps he needed a few hours sleep. Draco was a little tired, but he didn't tell her that. Instead he told her what Professor Snape had said about today's lesson being hard, and that he didn't want Draco falling behind. Madam Pomfrey hesitated for a moment, undecided. Then she shook her haid, tut-tutted in an exasperated manner and waved her hands in a shooing motion.

"Fine, fine. Off you go. I swear, the way you carry on, you'd think I locked you up in chains and forced you to drink dog water" she said. That was enough for Draco. He was out the door barely before she had finished.

Draco had intended to be on time for his Potions lesson. He would simply walk in, sit down as if nothing had happened, and then with any luck the class would simply forget about the bunny-ears incident. Of course Weasley, Scar-head and maybe even the mudblood would make some smart-arse comment. But Snape would no doubt punish them and besides, Draco had a wealth of scathing retorts he could use. Yet when he reached the doors and peered through, he realised that class was already fully in session. If he walked in late, all eyes would be on him. He wouldn't have to explain to Snape why he was late, but no doubt people would guess. And naturally it would bring their attention back to the incident of the day before. And they'd laugh. they'd snigger. He hated the thought, but he couldn't blame them. If he'd been in that position, he wouldn't just be laughing. He'd be shouting from the rooftops how incredibly daft they were. How incredibly idiotic they were to fail at a potion so simple a monkey could probably do it. He'd probably also mention something about the rabbit ears being an improvement by taking the focus off their face. If he walked in, he'd be humiliated. He hated embaressment with a passion. His pride couldn't stand it.

What to do? Now it was his turn to be indecisive. He could go in, get it over with and move on. He knew that it was the smartest option. It was what his father would tell him to do. 'Take it like a man, Draco. Stop being a a bloody child. Grow up and get some courage and stop being such a bloody little cry-baby. Do something right for a change. Stop being such an embaressement to the prestigous Malfoy name.'. But he wasn't about to listen to his advice. Afterall, it was his bloody fault he was in this position to begin with. Draco began to breathe quicker. If he hadn't... then he wouldn't have had to... and he would have just completed the potion. He would have beat Granger, not just tied with her. He wouldn't have had to go to spend the night in the hospital wing, he wouldn't have had to deal with Snape's disappointment, he wouldn't have to be friends with the biggest fools in the school. And he certainly wouldn't be standing outside this classroom door thinking negative thoughts trying to postpone ridicule and humiliation. A deep, dull anger coursed through him, rising into something stronger, sharper.

"Fuck him."

With that, he turned and walked in the opposite direction. Screw potions, screw hogwarts, screw his bloody father. He wasn't taking any of this shit. Not right now, not today. He'd deal with it tomorrow. Today he would do whatever the hell he wanted. He deserved a break.

"Move it, bitch" he said to a passing third year Gryffindor. She looked at him with surpise, before scowling and muttering something about a 'cruel little git'. Draco didn't hear it. If he had, he wouldn't have cared. It was as if all the stress of the past day, week, month, summer, came crashing down upon his shoulders. His body was tense, and seemed to be buzzing with an alive, angry energy that he couldn't control. His strides became longer as he almost ran through the corridors.

He had never been claustrophobic. The darkness of enclosed places didn't bother him, either. But now, the walls seemed to be pushing in on him, weighing him down and laughing all the while. Laughing grinning, giggling at him. At his panic. At his life.

And so When he opened the doors and stepped outside, the relief hit him like a physical thing, and for a moment, he stood, nauseated, as the world spun around him. He was hyperventilating. He tried to slow his breathing, even it out, but panic had a grip on him, and it wasn't about to let him go. He stumbled for a few metres. A few more. He had to get away. Then it would stop. Then would feel safe. Then he'd be ok again. He reeled over to his left, his feet dragging behind him like lead. He tried to find his footing, tried to tell his legs what to do, but they, too, betrayed him. He hit hard as he fell to the ground, hands first. He felt skin scrape off him palms, but then the pain was gone, numbed, leaving him like his sense of reality. He got up on his elbows and for a moment he thought he was going to be sick. He breathed heavily, waiting for the inevitable. It didn't come. He was still breathing in long, deep gasps, but the world was slowly spinning back into focus. The nausea hit him again, and he coughed a few times. The sickness was rising through him, now. Rising, rising... He dry-heaved a few times before it came, but then it came, and he groaned, disgusted and revolted at himself as his breakfast was emptied from his stomach. Well, he thought, seems like it wouldn't have mattered if I had dragon eggs and bacon afterall. No doubt the result would be the same. A stupid thought, not even vaguely appropriate, but he laguhed nevertheless, not even sure if it was funny. Then the laughs turned to shudders, and he angrily wiped the tears from his face. His father was right. He was a stupid-cry-baby. He crawled a few meters away from the mess and pulled his knees close himself. He focused on righting his breathing, berating himself all the while for losing control. That was when he felt the hand on his shoulder, and he looked up into the face of the last person he expected.

`~`  
2

Severus Snape wasn't at all suprised when he saw Draco Malfoy peer through the doors ten minutes into his fifth-year potions lesson. He was suprised, however, when his face contorted in anger and he began walking away again. 'What on earth is that child doing?' he wondered in moderate annoyance. For a moment he wasn't sure what to do. He wasn't lying when he had said that today's lesson would be more complicated. He couldn't just leave the class unattended. They wouldn't know what to do. But there was no way of getting around it; he was rather concerned at Malfoy's unpredictable behaviour over the past two days. He wanted answers, and he had a feeling that this might be the only time he'd get any forthcoming. He curled his lip, despising what he was about to do.

"Right, class, I've got some business to attend to. Granger, you're in charge till I get back. If I hear about any misbehaviour there'll be points off no matter what house you're from", he said, eyeing the slytherins. They looked almost as shocked as Hermione.

"Oh and Hermione?"

she looked up 

Don't let it go to your head."

With that he left the room and walked down the corridors. For about half a minute he couldn't hear anything, and he was worried that he may have gone the wrong way and lost him. But then the sound of heavy footstops (angry footsteps) caught his ears, and he strode forward again, with increased purpose.

To say that he was suprised at what he found when he caught up with Malfoy would be the understatement of the century. He had expected the smug, self-confident, sarcastic Draco Malfoy everyone knew and loved... er, hated, actually. Instead he found a quivering mess. It took him a few moments to digest exactly what he was seeing. And so for about ten seconds (or perhaps it was actually just a few, and it just seemed longer, he coudn't be sure) he just stood there, unmoving, doing a remarkable impression of the expression that he had scolded Draco for just that morning. About twenty minutes ago. Suddenly it seemed a lifetime longer. Because no one could have such a dramatic change in state-of-mind within the space of twenty minutes.

Snape didn't know what to do. His first thought was that he should go and get someone else. Madam Pomfrey, perhaps. Dumbledore, even. But that would take five, maybe ten minutes. Perhaps longer if he couldn't find them. He couldn't just leave him here. Besides, Malfoy was a Slytherin, and therefore was his responsibility nore than anyone's. He sighed, resigned to what had to be done. As he moved toward the figure, who had his back to him and was now sitting on the ground with he knees pulled up to his body, all he could think was 'I'm not suited to things like this. Not at all'. He approached the boy, who still wasn't aware of his presence. He reached out and placed his hand awkwardly and tentatively on his shoulder. The boy looked up at him.

"What, exactly, are you doing, Malfoy?"

----

Umm, this kinda suprised me. When I sat down to write this chapter, I fully intended Draco to go to class. But, dammit, he just really didn't want to go! And then everything just kinda snowballed. Hmm. I'm a bit worried about this chapter, because I'm not sure if I've written it well enough. This chapter really stirred something in me because it's partly auto-biographical, but I'm not sure if the intensity of the emotion Draco was feeling came across or not. If it didn't then it just seems like he had a little meltdown for no real reason, out of the blue. But believe me, sometimes things just hit you when you least expect it. Especially when you bottle things up. That's what happened to poor ol' Draco.

Rest assured, I won't be suddenly turning him into a weak, scared, dribbly little puppy-dog. In order to have put up with Lucius for so long, he has to have developed inner strength, right? Having to put up with shit from the people who matter the most to you day in, day out makes you tougher and weaker at the same time. So expect Draco to show moments of strength and moments of weakness... intensely. I think he's gonna have a nice showdown with Lucius, too. For those who want to see some Snape/Draco bonding, well, you may have to wait a bit longer. Snape's a bit (a lot, actually) of a cold fish, and that doesn't just disappear overnight. But he's not as cruel as he lets on, either.

Now, time for bed.


	9. Hilarity and Exhaustion

A/N: Thankyou to gagmewithasp0rkx, Aeryn Alexander, Quicksilver Fallen and ClaireBear for their reviews.

I would have written this a day earlier, but we were hit with a rather violent electrical storm, which hit a powerline and left us without electricity for hours - at precisely the time when I usually write. That's luck for ya. Plus, I may be developing an ulcer on my eye (yes, ouch) which could have me not being able to open them for up to a week - perfect timing for christmas, wouldn't you say? Hopefully if I get some rest it'll disappear through the night. Otherwise it may be a while before I can write again.

From now on I'll use * to emphasise a word that I would usually contain in italics. I work with html, but they just don't work when I upload to ff.net

Disclaimer: I don't own a thing. Really. Don't sue me.

Codeword? Jeans.

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Sacrifices

Part 9 - Hilarity and Exhaustion

Draco self-consciously moved is hands to his face, though whether he was attempting to brush away his tears or simply cover them he didn't quite know. What he did know was that he had just been caught at the most unfortunate time by the most unfortunate person. He guessed he would rather have Weasley see him in this state - probably even Potter - than Professor Snape. He realised that Snape was still staring down at him. He felt exposed. Shamed. He hated it. What could he say? 'Oh, hi Professor, just feeling a tad off so I decided to stumble out here and throw up. Oh, and cry a little too, of course. And how are you?'. He focused on finding his voice. It was difficult. He was scared that if he opened his mouth, sobs would come out instead of words. Meanwhile, Snape had spoken again. Asked the same thing. 'Good question' thought Draco. What *am* I doing? He shook his head, as if shaking out the fog that seemed to have settled over his consciousness. He couldn't think straight. He looked at his hands. They were bleeding. Dirt and half-congealed blood had run down his hand and trailed down his forerm. He guessed that it would hurt like hell later, but for now it was painless. He found himself wishing that it *would* hurt. At least then maybe he'd feel more *here*. Right now he felt like he was walking in a dream.

Snape watched him with concern, though his face remained stoic and expressionless. The boy had been crying, he could tell that much, and he'd also been sick. Snape tried to conceal his distaste. He didn't know what to do. He looked around, trying to determine of there was anyone else around who was more... suited... to this sort of thing. There wasn't. All the teachers and students were in class. He guessed that if there was any consolation for Malfoy, that was it. Nobody had seen him apart from himself, and he guessed that the boy would want to keep it that way. He certainly would, if he were in that position. He looked at Malfoy's hands, which the boy was watching with sickened fascination.

"Malfoy, perhaps we should let Madam Pomfrey take a look at your hands"

The boy didn't hear.

"Malfoy"

No answer. Louder -

"Malfoy"

This time the boy looked up at him, and for a moment seemed suprised to see him there. But then he looked back down again, quickly, his head lowered in shame. Snape pretended not to notice.

"I said we should let Madam Pomfrey look at your hands"

The boy looked down at them , and his eyes widened. He looked like he was seeing them for the first time, and Snape grew more concerned. He looked to be almost disoriented. Then he shook his head, and turned his face upward to look at Snape.

"Yeah, I think I might have grazed them when I fell down"

Might have, Snape mused. Might have indeed. He put his hand back on Draco's shoulder and helped pull him to his feet. The boy looked like he may fall right back down again, but after a moment he found his footing, and started to trail Snape back into Hogwarts.

Snape was unsure of whether he should question the boy or let him regain his composure first. He debated with himself while walking down the corridors, Malfoy walking silently behind him. He was still trying to decide when he found himself at the Hospital Wing doors. Now it would have to wait. When they walked into the room, Madam Pomfrey was writing something on a tablet of paper. She looked up expectantly when Snape entered the room.

"Accident in potions, Severus? Neville Longbottom, most likely. Send him in, then"

Draco was standing behind Snape, whose imposing figure hid him from view.

"Actually, Poppy, it seems Master Malfoy has had an..." he paused, trying to think of the right word. "...accident". He glanced down and was partly annoyed, partly amused to find that the boy was almost cowering behind him. He stepped aside and practically pulled him throught the door. Madam Pomfrey frowned, and shook her head.

"Master Malfoy, how did you manage to -" she looked at his hands and robes "are they grass stains? How on earth did you get grass stains when you were supposed to go straight to class?"

Draco, meanwhile, was beginning to get beyond caring. He was tired. He felt like he'd run a marathon. He was exhausted, physically. But that wasn't the worst of it. He felt washed out. Emotionally he was beyond tired, beyond exhausted. He felt empty. Like through his tears all his emotions had come tumbling out till he was left completely dry. Numb, like his hands. Except they had started to come alive. They were tingling, not exactly hurting, though he knew they would in time. He almost looked forward to it. Sometimes pain was good. It helped keep your mind off other things. Perhaps that was why when his father... when he... why he wasn't really bothered that much. It was the mind-games that really broke you. He looked at Madam Pomfrey in a disinterested manner. Her mouth was moving. She looked to be in limbo. Some weird place between annoyance and concern. He found it funny. Not in a ha-ha kind of way, but the sort of funny that was funny only because it made no sense. And suddenly it wasn't just funny. It was hilarious. He tried to stifle his laughs, but couldn't. At first it was a giggle. Then another. Madam Pomfrey's face contorted in anger, and he lost it. He laughed until fresh tears rolled down his face (no quite dry afterall) and somewhere throughout, it stopped being funny. Maybe it was when he felt Professor Snape put a stern hand on his shoulder, maybe before, maybe after. It hurt his stomach, but he couldn't stop. He was in hysterics, he knew it, and that made him laugh even harder.

Madam Pomfrey was no longer angry. She was worried. She'd seen people have adverse reactions before. Sometimes when in shock, people would yell, scream... or laugh. It was never a good sign. Snape's eyes were wide, she could see, and she guessed that if she had been able to see her own face, hers would be the same. Probably worse. Snape had grabbed Malfoy by the shoulder, but seemed unsure of what to do next. Luckily for him, the boy started to calm down. Though he was still laughing, his laughs were turning into long, ragged breaths. Snape kept his hand held securely onto the boy's shoulder. He didn't know why, exactly. In case he bolted? In case he started thrashing about? In case he fell down like he'd done already? Maybe. Maybe it was just instinct. Perhaps he knew that in times of great distress, a simple human touch can make all the difference, no matter what its source. For Draco, at least, that was true. When he felt Snape's hand on his shoulder, something clicked in his mind, and he felt like he was coming back into himself. Away from hysteria, back to now.

If he felt weak before his fit of giggles, it was ten-fold now. He felt like he could literally crumple at any moment. His legs felt weighty, but liquid. It felt like his blood had collapsed at his feet, leaving his head empty and flighty. The sickness had returned to his stomach, but he barely noticed. He was too tired to notice. He was too tired to think. He would have asked to lay down on a bed so that he could sleep, but he was too tired. Too tired to walk across the room, too tired to talk... and, dammit, he was too tired to stand. He felt his knees give way. 'Oops' he thought, and it brought a lazy smile to his face. He felt hands grab him under the arms. He attempted to stand on his feet once more, but was only moderately successful. He half-stumbed to the closest bed (though in truth, the hands that were still place under his arms were taking the majority of his weight) and felt is legs being lifted from under him. Then he was on the bed. It felt like heaven. He wondered excatly when the hospital wing had aquired the most comfortable bed in the world. He felt his eyes slide closed and embraced the darkness that came rushing toward him. Welcomed it like an old friend. Which it was, really.

----

This was a short one, I know, but my eye really is hurting me, and all this talk of sleep is making my eyes droop. Lets just hope it doesn't get too much worse. I'm getting a load of books for christmas, and it would be extremely unfortunate if I was left without eyes to read them with.

Here in Australia it's officially already christmas eve. If you want me to write the next chapter over christmas, review. Unless people *really* want another chapter I might just party... You should see the yummy bottle of rum that my mum bought me for christmas :licks lips: awfully tempting.


	10. Questions

A/N: OK, guys. I've got loads to do today, including some desperate last minute christmas shopping, writing on a bunch of cards, wrapping presents, and drawing an entire picture from scratch and framing it by tomorrow to give to my mum :sighs: so I can't make this as long as I'd like. But since some lovely people reviewed, I had to write something...

My eye is no better, no worse than yesterday. That's not particularly good, but I can still keep it open without too much pain, so that's something to be thankful for.

Don't own a thing.

Blue jeans.

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Sacrifices

Part ten - Questions

When Draco Malfoy opened his eyes, he became aware of two things. One, that he was feeling a whole lot better. Two, that Professor Snape was asleep in the chair beside his bed. He sat up and looked at him, unsure of what he should do. Let him sleep, wake him up? If he woke up then he would surely face a barage of questions. Questions that Draco didn't want to answer. Let him sleep, then. In the meantime, Draco tried to figure out the answer to a question of his own. What was Professor Snape doing beside here? He surely wouldn't have been there of his own accord. He supposed that Madam Pomfrey had told him to keep watch in case Draco... what? Went crazy again? Draco groaned inwardly. He'd made such a bloody fool of himself. Crying, being sick, passing out. Why didn't he just go to bloody class? None of this would have happened. He'd probably be - what? He didn't know what the time was, so he didn't know what he'd be doing. What he did know was that he would be in a better position than he was now. Another brilliant idea by Draco Malfoy.

After Draco had gone to sleep, Madam Pomfrey suggested that he go back to his class. Severus had refused. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew that his class was in good hands with Hermione Granger. No doubt she would be able to keep his class in order till the end of the lesson. Besides, he needed to be here when Malfoy woke up. He was through with trying to guess what was wrong with the boy. He wanted answers. Now. And so he stood, waiting for about fifteen minutes before Madam Pomfrey insisted he pulled over a chair. Afterall, she had said, they really had no idea of knowing when Malfoy would wake up. So he sat it the chair for half an hour, an hour, two, and all the while he brooded on what was wrong with the boy beside him. He weighed up all the points and tried to form a conclusion, but something seemed to be missing. He had a thought at one point that almost made sense. Almost fitted together, but there was still one piece that didn't quite match up. And so he continued to think. Continued till his eyes felt heavy, and his head began to droop of its own accord. He tried to stay awake. He hated the thought of Malfoy finding him sleeping when he woke up. Sleeping and off guard. But the hours dragged on, and the boy didn't move. Night pressed in, and still there was no movement. And so Severus Snape slept.

When he woke up it took a moment to get his bearings. He turned to the bed beside him and found blue-grey eyes staring back. He jumped in suprise, before regaining his composure and looking at the boy with an almost casual expression.

"How long have you been awake?"

"About an hour"

Snape was shocked. He was sure he had only just dozed off. Just a few moments ago. Apparently he was mistaken.

"Why didn't you wake me?"

The boy shrugged.

"What happened today, Malfoy?"

Draco had spent the most part of the hour trying to think of what to say. He had come up with an elaborate story. He'd left Madam Pomfrey and began walking toward class. He started feeling a little queasy, but thought nothing of it. He continued, and had just got to the door of the classroom, when - bam - the sickness hit him full-swing. Not only that, but he suddenly had a splitting heachache, Sick, feeling giddy, he realised he couldn't return to class, as much as he would have loved to go to potions. Afterall, he was really looking forward to it after doing so well that morning. He staggered back, with the intention of going back to the hospital wing. But by then he was disoriented. He lost his way and found himself outside. He was sick, then - he wasn't quite sure - perhaps he had been crying, but he didn't remember. He was still a little out-of-it. After that he couldn't remember a thing,

That was what he had planned on telling Snape. But now, looking into the stern face and dark, intense eyes, he found that the lie got caught in his throat.

"I..."

Oh Merlin, why couldn't he at least speak properly? Meanwhile Snape was still looking at him with that penetrating gaze. He wasn't going to let up, Draco realised, until he had answered his question.

"I... I guess I panicked, professor"

That was true. Snape continued looking at him.

"And why did you panic, Master Malfoy?"

Good question. One he couldn't answer without telling all. He couldn't do that. Not only because his father would find out. He couldn't tell him simply because he didn't want Snape to know. So what could he say, then? The half-thruth. It was better than a lie.

"I was embaressed about yesterday"

Snape looked at the boy with an incredulous expression.

"You don't honestly think that I would be stupid enough to believe that, do you?"

Draco didn't know what to say. He said nothing.

"First, Master Malfoy, you mess up a potion that I know you knew how to do - perfectly - then I hear about this sore arm of yours, which you assured me Madam Pomfrey had taken care of. Meanwhile, Madam Pomfrey seems to know absolutely nothing about it when I ask her. For a second I think that perhaps that's the reason you didn't want to use the Revelio Potion. But then I turn up the very next morning, and you take it and nothing. Nothing at all happens. Then I think that perhaps it really was nothing. That perhaps I had let my imagination get the better of me. But then I find you crying, sick on the ground outside. Then when I get you to Madam Pomfrey you go into hysterics and collapse into my arms. And I'm supposed the just discard all that because you say you got a little embaressed? Please, Malfoy, do not insult my intelligence. I want to know what is going on. Now."

Draco gulped. This was a lot worse than he'd imagined. Snape, meanwhile, was a little regretful when he saw the look of hurt flash in the boy's eyes. He really wasn't cut out for this.

"I'll go and get Madam Pomfrey to look at your hands. She wanted you to be awake before she gave you anything. She cleaned them up. There was a lot of blood, but the cuts are relatively minor" he said in a somewhat softer voice. As soft as he could manage to muster, anyway. The boy nodded, and Snape stood and left the room.

----

That isn't where I wanted to end the chapter, but I really haven't got the time to write any more. If I don't write any more before Christmas, then MERRY CHRISTMAS! I hope you all have a great one... and don't drink too much... even though I know I will... and regret it sorely in the morning.


	11. The Missing Piece

A/N: It's been a few days since I posted. Sorry. It got rather hectic around Christmas, and my sleeping patterns have become severely messed up, meaning that I've been sleeping during the time that I usually write. Don't ask me why I like to write at a certain time, I just do. On another note, The Two Towers premiered here on the 26th. I've seen it twice already. Brilliant. Those who haven't seen it, should. But anyway, here's the next part.

Thankyou to SirusBlackRules, Aeryn Alexander, Angelika, Quicksilver Fallen, Jessica, gagmewithasp0rkx and Me for their reviews.

Disclaimer: Don't own it, don't sue (please?).

Jeans.

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Sacrifices

Part Eleven - The Missing Piece

When Professor Snape left to get Madame Pomfrey, Draco was, for a moment at least, relieved. He hated the position he was in. But he decided to deny, deny, deny. Snape would get angry. More than angry. He'd probably be livid. But it'd go away. So long as he pleaded ignorance. He'd been stupid to say that Madam Pomfrey had treated his arm. He hadn't thought that Snape would have asked her about it. But now, thinking about it, he chastined himself. He'd been stupid. But still, deny deny deny and everything would die down. Snape's attention couldn't stay focused on him for long when there were so many other things to do, afterall. Draco repeated this mantra to himself till Snape returned with Pomfrey in toe.

Snape stood near the back of the room while Madam Pomfrey took Malfoy's hands and examined them. She then bustled over to her medicine cabinet and rummaged around for a moment, taking out a vile, shaking her head in an impatient manner, then returning it. Snape walked beside her and peered in.

"Need any help, Poppy?"

Madam Pomfrey didn't answer immediately. She moved down to a lower shelf and removed a bottle.

"Ahh, here it is. Bruise-be-Gone. On the wrong shelf. Haven't a clue how it got there"

Draco's muscles tightened involuntarily. Yet another stupid mistake. He couldn't even manage to return the potion to the right shelf. Granted, he was very, very tired at the time, but it was no excuse. He should have been paying more attention. He wondered how many mistakes were yet to be discovered. And how many it would take before someone would be able to put the pieces together. Madame Pomfrey was still looking at the vile with close scrutiny.

"Not as much left as I thought there would be"

Snape turned his gaze to Malfoy, and Draco concentrated on metting his gaze. He couldn't give anything away. That would be it. Snape held his gaze for what seemed like hours, though it was only a few seconds. Madam Pomfrey had poured the potion into a spoon and was holding it out to Draco.

"Now, take this. It's primarily made for bruises, but it'll help with cuts and scrapes as well. It probably won't heal it all, but it'll get rid of the nastier bits, and then I'll use a light healing balm for whatever's left."

Draco took the medicine, but cringed before he had actually tasted it. He remembered from last time how horrid the stuff tasted. It didn't taste any better going down the second time. If anything the unplesant expectations made it worse. Madam Pomfrey rolled her eyes and walked briskly back to the cupboard, replacing the potion, and removing a tube of some sort.

"Now Malfoy" she began, "Hold out your hands for me". He did as she requested and she looked over them. Malfoy saw that although most of the grazes had disapeared, his hands were still rather red and raw. Madam Pomfrey moved as if to squeeze some of the balm onto her fingers, but Snape put a hand apon her wrist.

"I'm sure you have a lot to do, Poppy, I can handle this" he said, and Draco cringed. As much as he disliked having Madam Pomfrey fussing like the old bat she was, it was a positively pleasant experience compared to dealing with Snape's questions. Madame Pomfrey hesitated, before relenting. Handing the tube to Snape, she gave one last look at Malfoy, then bustled out of the room. When the doors shut behind her, Snape squeezed some of the balm onto his fingertips.

"Your hands, Malfoy" he growled, without looking up.

Draco obediently held out his hands, and Snape began applying the gel to the red, angry areas. Draco tried not to cringe, but it was difficult. It still rather hurt. He waited with resignation for the questions to start, but they didn't. Snape was perfectly silent as he applied the healing balm. He was also (and this Draco was particularly thankful for) uncharacteristically gentle. Draco found himself relaxing.

Severus Snape, meanwhile, was certain that he had put another piece of the puzzle together. Rather than satisfying his innate curiosity, however, it put him in an awkward, and possibly dangerous situation. When Madam Pomfrey had remarked that the bruise-be-gone was in the wrong position, his mind clicked and he instantly suspected that Malfoy had put it there. When it was revealed that there was less of the potion than there should have been, he was almost sure. When the boy had cringed before he'd actually tasted it, he knew. He wasn't quite sure how, exactly, he could be so sure. Malfoy certainly wasn't the only patient in the hospital wing within the last few days. But he did know. And it made perfect sense. It was the missing piece that made the rest of the puzzle make sense. The missing piece that had been plaguing his thoughts. That was the reason the Revelio potion hadn't revealed anything wrong with his arm. He had already taken the healing potion. For something visible. But what?

He kept his focus on applying the balm, massaging it into Malfoy's hands. He looked up briefly to find that the boy was trying to hide his discomfort. And doing quite a good job of it. He frowned. That was another thing. He'd had a sore arm, and no one had been able to tell. If that fool Goyle hadn't mentioned it, then he wouldn't have even known... Snape paused.

"Professor?"

Snape resumed massaging his hands for a few moments. Then, deciding he'd done as much as he could, he walked over to the water basin on the other side of the room and washed his hands. He placed the healing balm back in the cupboard, then walked back and looked at Malfoy. The boy was eyeing him with obvious confusion.

"You'll stay here for the night. Your hands should be healed fully by morning. I'll expect to see you at potions class tomorrow"

Draco nodded.

"Good. I have somewhere I need to be. Til tomorrow, then"

Draco nodded again. Snape bowed his head slightly, then left the room, with all his usual dramatic flair.

Severus Snape strode down the corridors, heading for the Slytherin dorms. He guessed that perhaps Goyle may already be asleep. Too bad. He'd just have to get up. The puzzle was finally going to be complete.

----

There we go. Not very long, but this was supposed to be part of the last chapter before I ran out of time. Hopefully I won't take as long to post the next part. Sorry if I seem to be dragging out the whole Snape-finding-out thing, but I really do not think that Draco would tell. I know that I certainly wouldn't if I was him. Not only in spite of the respect for Snape, but because of it.

For those of you who want Lucius to come into the story as promised, well, sorry it's taking so long. But I'm not gonna just drag him in for the sake of it. It will happen, though.

Next chapter? Snape's talk with Goyle, and Snape dealing with the consequences of the revelation. It's not a simple matter afterall, especially when he's supposed to be a deatheater.


	12. Contemplation

A/N: This would have been up much sooner, but I've been experiencing major problems with ff.net

Disclaimer: It all belongs to the brilliant JK Rowling.

Still don't have a beta, and I make so many typos it's cringeworthy. Sorry.

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Sacrifices

Part Twelve - Contemplation

When Severus Snape left Goyle's quarters, he was in quite a bad mood. He didn't know what to do with the information he had been given. On one hand, he held his suspicions. Yet there were dangerous consequences should those suspicions turn out to be true. He wanted to grasp onto the thin chance that perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps all could be explained afterall. Perhaps everything was ok. But he knew it wasn't. He wanted to believe that he might be jumping to conclusions with very little evidence, but it simply wasn't true. It all fitted together to apiant a picture that he didn't want to believe. Didn't want to, but did nevertheless.

When he had entered Goyle's quarters the boy had indeed been asleep, and Snape had indeed woken him with very little mercy. He had asked him about Malfoy's arm, and at first the boy didn't know what he was talking about. Eventually, though, Snape had gotten from him that Draco had a bruised arm, and he mentioned something about getting it from bumping into a wall in the middle of the night. Rediculous, considering the fact that Malfoy had told Snape a different story when he was questioned about it. Snape had hounded Goyle for more information, but unfortunately the boy proved yet again that he was indeed as dumb as he looked, and so Snape left him to go back to bed. And now here was striding down the corridors yet again, wondering what to do with the information he had been given. and the consequences of that.

Snape, not for the first time that night, began to wish that he had never taken such an interest in Malfoy's problem. He wished that he hadn't noticed Malfoy outside the door that day, wished he hadn't tried to find out what was really the matter, and wished more than anything that he hadn't decided to show the class how to brew that bloody Revelio Potion. Because it all started from there, really. All the mess, all the trouble. If he hadn't decided to use that potion on that particular day, then none of this would have occured. He would have remained blissfully unaware of Malfoy's troubles.

Of course he knew underneath all this that is was rather fortunate that he had discovered this. That it would have been much worse for the boy if he hadn't foundout this early. But that was below the surface, below the current contempt and anger. Below the trepidation resulting from the question of what to do now. What would he do? What could he do? First he would have to find out if what he suspected was true. That was the obvious next step, but how, exactly, would be broach that subject? How could he talk to the boy about it? What? Just walk up to the child and say "Hey, how are you today? Nice weather, yeah? Good day for Quidditch. Does your father beat you, by the way?" Rediculous. Idiotic. Dangerous.

Lucius Malfoy was a deatheater. As it was, he considered Snape a valuable ally, and Snape guessed that it was because of this that Severus remained a lot safer as a spy. Lucius was one of the closest of Voldemort's people to Severus himself. As long as Lucius was convinced of Snape's loyalty, Snape was a whole lot safer. What would happen if Snape did something to make Lucius question this loyalty? Like, oh, perhaps meddling in the relationship between he and his son? What deatheater would even blink at a father giving his son an occasional beating? None. Not after witnessing countless deaths, a father 'disciplining' his son would very rarely raise an eyebrow. Unless, of course, he wasn't truly a deatheater. Unless he was a spy. And for that he would pay dearly. With his life. Was it worth it?

What could he do? Risk it all on a suspicion? Stupid. He couldn't talk to the boy. How would he even know where the boy's loyalties lay? Just because a father beats his child still doesn't mean that the child would turn against the father. That's part of the reason why it goes undetected so much of the time. Draco himself had gone completely out of his way to hide it already. Part of it could be shame. Definately. But part of it could also be because the child has been led to believe that it's right. That he deserved it. That it was his fault, and his father was only distributing justice. And the child could, and probably would, still love his father, even if he hated him on the surface. Would probably remain loyal to him rather than some meddling professor, even if it was the head of his house. He would possibly tell his father, and then where would Snape be? In danger once again.

He could tell Dumbledore, but it would amount to the same thing. There would be the question of who told Dumbledore. It would come back to Snape. Who else? Madam Pomfrey? Perhaps. But more likely it would fall to Snape. Afterall, he was the one who had actively tried to seek out th answers. And then the question would rise again. Why would a deatheater, loyal to Voldemort be concerned over so little a thing? And then the answer would be te same. Because he's not loyal. He's a traitor. A spy. And the cycle goes on and on.

What to do? Snape paused. He was tired. Too tired for things like this. It was late. Too late to be thinking about such a serious matter. He needed to sleep on it. Perhaps things would seem clearer in the morning. In any case, it was unlikely that he would come to a conclusion tonight. Even if he did, he certainly couldn't act on it immediately. Yes, it was time for rest. He'd earned it. So with this in mind he retired to his quarters. He fixed himself a sleeping draught to ward off a likely troubled sleep, then climbed into bed. Yet even with the sleeping potion, his sleep was far from easy.

----

Y'know it's funny, when I'm really tired, I always wind up making my characters sleep. I was quite lucky to get this out. I was sitting in front of the computer screen, with my mind completely blank, and I was about to shut down the computer and go to bed, but inspiration struck. It's all thoughts and contemplation, I know, but I think I needed it. The last couple of chapters have been too - I don't know - shallow? I don't mean that in a bad sense, it's just that I felt like I was losing hold of what was going on in the character's heads and focusing more on what was happening physically. And thus, this chapter was born. I'm so bad at writing chapters, because they're so bloody short. It's because I have a habit of writing just as I'm about to go to bed, or running out of time. I apologise. Sincerely.

Anyhow, please review, if you don't I get discouraged, and writing becomes less of a joy and more of a chore. There's nothing like reviews to get you motivated.


	13. The Calling

A/N: Sorry for the delay in writing this. I've been, well, busy. And a lot of shite has been going on. Domestics, domestics, domestics. Never fear, I may be able to use them in later chapters. Afterall, if you know what you write, chances are it'll be a lot better than if you're writing about something you haven't experienced. :glares at her family: Bring it on.

Thankyou for all the reviews. It makes me smile.

I'll try to make this one longer, yeah?

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Sacrifices

Part Thirteen - The Calling

~-~   
1 

When Severus Snape woke the next morning, his head seemed clearer, but a solution to the problem still hadn't shown itself. But whether he was right or wrong, he couldn't simply ignore the situation. All he could really do was report to Dumbledore and see if he had any ideas. At least then the situation would be out of his hands. He could resume his life guilt-free, knowing he did his duty to Malfoy, while preserving his own interests as well. With that thought in mind he proceeded to Dumbledore's chambers. Once inside, he explained the entire events of the past few days, leaving nothing out that he could think of. When he had finished, Dumbledore was silent but thoughtful. The silence seemed to continue for longer than Snape was comfortable with. Surely Dumbledore had a solution. But then why was he taking such a long time thinking it over? At least Dumbledore looked Snape in the eye, and unfolded his hands.

"I see your predicament, Severus. It is unfortunate indeed." Here Dumbledore paused for a moment before continuing. "On one hand, we have a responsibility as the staff of this School to ensure the well-being of every student on an individual basis, and yet we must ensure the safety of the student body as a whole as well. Which is why this situation is quite complicated indeed. Voldemort and his followers pose a great threat to many students at this school. Yet that threat is greatly minimised by the fact that we have a spy within our list of allies, who is a constant source of information, despite great risk to himself. Information that helps with the security of this school, as well as the wizarding community as a whole. If that source of information were comprimised, the danger would greatly increase" Dumbledore gazed at Snape with a fondness that made Snape drop his eyes, with shame. He certainly didn't deserve the favour of the great Professor Dumbledore. Not after his past. He looked up again as Dumbledore continued. "Yet, we cannot just do nothing if we suspect that an individual is being placed in a potentially dangerous situation." Dumbledore sighed, and with his next statement suprised Snape. "What do you think we should do about this, Severus?"

Severus didn't know what to say. He was momentarily felt off-kilter. He'd come here for Dumbledore's wisdom, thinking that all he'd have to do was tell all, and the problem would be offloaded. No longer his. That Dumbledore would simply think about something that he himself had missed, fix it all while Snape went back to his life, and then the world would just go back to normal, as if nothing had happened. But Dumbledore was still referring to the problem as their's. He was still implicated. Of course he understood it was the way it should be. He was involved. It was his student, and he had been the one to involve himself. It only made perfect sense that he should still be implicated. But he didn't expect that Dumbledore would expect him to suggest a resolution. He didn't have one.

"Severus?" Dumbledore asked again, though gently.

"Perhaps we should just wait for the moment. We could monitor his behavior, see if there's any further evidence before we just jump in and make too many assumptions. I may be wrong, afterall. And in any case, he's safe while he's here at Hogwarts. He won't be going home for the holidays in months." Snape had to admit he felt rather disenchanted with himself as he let the words fall from his mouth. They sounded callous, shallow. There was a child at their school that they suspected was being abused at home, and he was suggesting to wait. It seemed rather cowardly. But what else could he do?

"Do you really think that's a wise idea, Severus? Perhaps you could talk to the boy, try to get him to tell you himself. He's rather fond of you, Severus"

Snape tried to stifle a laugh. A student, fond of him. What a preposterous idea. Draco Malfoy only liked him because his father had no doubt been filling his son's head with ideas. Ideas like Snape being a deatheater. A spy working for Voldemort. The only real teacher in the school. The only one worthy of leading the mighty Slytherins. Snape wondered if perhaps Lucius had told him of his many conquests as a deatheater. The thought that this was why Draco Malfoy held a fondness for him made Snape almost physically sick. 

"He holds me in high regard only because he thinks I am loyal to Voldemort"

Dumbledore smiled, though almost sadly, and looked Severus in the eye.

"I do not think he is like his father, Severus. Yet if you think that waiting is the wise thing to do right now, I will trust your judgement. But watch him carefully, Severus"

Severus nodded, and bowed, before turning for departure. He made his way to the door.

"And Severus?" Severus turned back.

"Do be careful. When you deal with Lucius Malfoy, you're playing with fire"

~-~   
2 

Though Draco Malfoy was feeling rather nervous about beginning his lessons again, he had learnt his lesson. He was going to class, no matter how much anxious he felt. He wasn't going to put himself in such an awkward (and dangerous) situation again if he could help it. The first lesson of the day was transfiguration. Not in the least an enjoyable subject, with that bloody Gryffindor hovering over his shoulder all the time, expecting him to do something terrible. Normlly he would have gone out of his way to provoke her, but today, after all the drama of the last few days, he was content just to sit back and remain indistinguishable from the rest of the students. He was mildly pleased when Crabbe and Goyle grinned like hyenas when he returned (though he guessed they'd have to be rather moronic hyenas). He was annoyed when Pansy Parkinson tried to wrap her arms around his neck like a possessive gorilla of some sort, but his mood lifted when he saw that some of the other slytherin boys were looking at him with envy. And his mood just about flew 20-feet into the air when he discovered that everybody, even the brilliant trio, had forgotten all about the bunny-ears incident. It seemed that a lot had happened in the last few days, not just for him, but for Neville Longbottom as well. Rather than transfiguring an apple into a puppy, he managed to transfigure himself into a miniature dragon... and accidently breathed fire onto his own feet. Lets face it, bunny ears were a rather mild embaressment compared to that.

He wasn't really looking forward to Professor Snape's class. That was a change, because normally it was by far his favourite lesson of the day, and he usually spent all is lessons counting down till the time came for potions. But now he still felt rather humiliated at his behaviour of the past few days. He'd doubted whether he'd ever regretted anything as much as he regretted having that little crying fit in front of Professor Snape of all teachers. At least if it had been anyone else, even Dumbledore, there would be no love lost. He would have hated being seen in that weak state in front of anyone, of course, but why did it have to be the only person whom Draco actually respected? Not for the first time, he was struck by the unfairness of the situation. But then again, maybe his father was right. Maybe the world wasn't fair, there was no justice. Maybe there was no right or wrong. Maybe there were just people who were brave anough to take what they wanted out of life, and those who were too scared to, while hiding behind words like justice, honour, good...

Either way, he was still pissed off at his situation.

Yet when he went into potions, he found that things really did seem like normal. Snape gave him a set of notes outlining what he'd missed, and offered to let him use the lab for an extra half-hour after class to get the experiments he'd missed done. He managed to finish the lesson early, however, and so finished all his work by the time the lesson was over, which Snape made a point of telling Longbottom, who still hadn't finished even one. Neville looked as if he were about to cry, and Draco would have laughed, except he was still trying to blend in and make sure everything returned to normal before resuming his scathing attacks. Afterall, although he hadn't mentioned anything yet, Draco was sure that Ron Weasley would conveniently remember his own potion disaster if required.

His day went from good to great when it was announced that Quidditch practice would start the next afternoon, and the first match of the season would start the next week. Against Gryffindor. Draco was glad. He needed to release a little steam, and what better way than to take on Potter on the Quidditch field?

Yes, life was definately getting a whole lot better for Draco Malfoy.

~-~   
3 

Severus Snape was writing notes for the next day's lessons. He gasped and clasped his arm, which was burning in an all-too-familiar fashion. It filled him with dread, and little of it had to do with the physical pain. It seemed it was time once again. Voldemort was calling.

----

A/N: Hmmm. Poor Draco doesn't realise things aren't going to stay normal. Not with Voldemort around. I don't know what Voldemort's gonna say. Or what's going to happen next. It'll be a suprise for both of us.

Just so people know, I don't want anyone worrying that I'm gonna suddenly abandon this story. I have full intentions of taking it right to the end. Even if it does take me a while.

Please review. I can't get enough. I haven't got a pro account, and can't check the hits, so the only way I know that people are still reading is if people review. And a feel like an arse when I feel like I'm writing to no one. I did try to make this chapter longer, but I'm just not a long-chapter-writer-person.


	14. Meetings, Dealings and Dread

A/N: Thankyou for all the reviews. I appreciate them, really. I took a while getting this written because I couldn't decide how to approach it. So in my typical style, I kept putting it off and concentrated on other things. Sorry. I'm terrible like that.

Disclaimer: It all belongs to J.K. Rowling. I have no money, and I'm not making any either, so I sincerely hope that no one decides to sue me.

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Sacrifices

Part Fourteen - Meetings, Dealings and Dread

Although Voldemort was the one who had issued the calling to his followers, when Snape arrived at the meeting of the deatheaters, Voldemort was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Lucius Malfoy was taking control of the meeting, talking in his stead. Apparently he and Voldemort had kept close council recently, which surprised many of his followers. It also conjured volatile envy amongst the others.

It was no secret that Lucius and his family were one of the first to change sides once Voldemort's powers had diminished. Of course Lucius had insisted that he remained loyal throughout, and was only pretending to turn his back on Voldemort. It was partially true. He also said, however, that is reasons were not for his own benefit. He insisted that it was simply because he could serve Voldemort more effectively if he was amongst the enemy, serving as a spy and informer. This, everyone knew, was a lie. He changed back because he was on the losing side and he was scared. He would like to think that his decision lay with protecting his wife and child. But that, too, would be a lie. He did it to serve his own interest. To keep himself safe. Everybody knew this.

That was why the deatheaters were so surprised at Lucius' elevated status. A status he simply revelled in. He enjoyed being Voldemort's closest servant. It gave him power over the others, and power was something that Lucius Malfoy found simply intoxicating. He enjoyed hearing news before everyone else, and he took pride in his position as informer of the rest of Voldemort's servants. He was far from stupid. He knew that they talked about him with derision when his back was turned. He knew they were jealous. he knew they were resentful. He just didn't care. While he was under the protection of Lord Voldemort, he knew that he needn't fear them in the slightest. He was right.

He could understand their confusion. When Lord Voldemort had summoned him after the many years he had spent on the opposite side, he could barely keep himself from trembling with nervousness under his terrible, piercing presence. He had expected the worst. He quite honestly thought that he would not live to see another sunrise. In that moment, he was filled with regret, and for a fleeting instant, he wished he had never joined the darkness. Yet Voldemort did not punish him as harshly as he had expected. Not by half.

He was given twenty lashes with the wip. A crude form of punishment, but as effective as many spells, and somehow a lot more humiliating. He had done this in front of a select number of his most loyal followers. A rather sickly expression of gratitude. A reward of sorts, for their loyalty. Then he had ordered them to leave, and Lucius was alone with him. Once again, Lucius felt that his life would be taken from him. And once again he felt a bitter pang of regret. Yet Voldemort simply stood quiet for what Lucius guessed was about two minutes. It could have been more. After all, he wasn't exactly in the right frame of mind to be counting the seconds. Every moment seemed to drag along for an eternity. He was nervous and sweating. He didn't move; he didn't dare to.

After what seemed an agonising, cruel length of time, Voldemort spoke. His tone was mild, relaxed. He seemed completely oblivious to Lucius' discomfort, though of course he wasn't. He asked him, coldly, emotionless, whether he wanted to live or die. For a moment Lucius was too shocked to answer. But he managed to choke out an only vaguely coherent string of words. He wanted to live. Very much so. Voldemort had looked thoughtful. Tactile. Then he had told him that he would grant his wish. Of course he would need something in return. A favour. Lucius had agreed immediately. Anything. He would do anything for is life. Voldemort told him that he would call apon the favour sometime in the future. If Lucius did not adhere to his request when the time came, he could kill him on the spot. Lucius had assured him that he would, indeed, honour his wishes. From then on, Voldemort had kept him close. Closer than any of his other followers.

This was both a good thing and a bad thing for Snape. Lucius and Snape had known each other a long time. A very long time, in fact. Lucius had been there when Snape was a deatheater. Lucius, for some reason, had always looked up to Snape. He was one of the few people that he had ever treated with respect, and luckily, that hadn't changed. As a result, Snape was always one of the first people to hear of any new information. He was often told information that was held back from the majority. Whilst the deatheaters as a whole were usually given only vague details, Snape was rewarded with detail. As a result, he was an effective spy indeed. Yet since Lucius was so close to Snape, not only through the deatheaters, but through his son as well, Snape could not afford to raise any suspicions. If Lucius suspected him, he would tell Voldemort immediately.

Every meeting with Lucius was a dangerous task. He had to remain impassive as Lucius told him of his many conquests, past and present. He had to hide his resentment, his disgust, and appear amiable. Respectful. He had to look at least somewhat enthusiastic whenever Lucius told him of Voldemort's latest plans. Under his mask of calm indifference, however, he was always appalled, always grimly surprised at the extent of evil a wizard could fall to. And there was always that little whisper, that shadow in his mind that reminded him that he, too, had been part of that evil once. That no matter what, he would never find redemption.

Normally the meeting would consist of Lucius standing in front of the others, full of self-importance, relaying to them the status of Voldemort's growing power, the number of followers returning to their side, and future terrades against the muggle community. This time, however, the news was more startling. Voldemort had requested that in one week, another meeting would be held. Parents with children over fourteen years old were to bring them along. It was time that they were officially recruited. An excited buzz filled the air as the crowd talked amongst themselves. That was in itself a strange ocurrence. The deatheaters were not normally particularly sociable during their meetings. Yet this moment was special. Many mothers and fathers had anxiously awaited the moment when their sons and daughters would be allowed to join them. The day of recruitment was going to be a very proud day indeed. Lucius would normally quiet them, but today he allowed them to chatter. After all, he could sympathise. His son would be attending too. His chest swelled with pride as he thought of it.

Standing away from the others, though not enough to warrent any unwanted attention, Severus Snape felt dread settle into his heart, heavy and stifling. He knew that many of his students would not be attending school a next week.

----

A/N: Ok, that took quite a while. I don't know what's happening next. Your guess is as good as mine. I will try not to take as long with the next part, but then again, I am quite the procrastinator sometimes :Sighs:


	15. Anticipation

A/N: Thankyou to all who have reviewed so far. When I first started this fic I was expecting maybe 1, 2 reviews, and I was nervous as hell. I never show my writing to anyone; usually I'm too embaressed. It's great to get feedback. It builds up confidence, so thankyou.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of it. It's all J.K. Rowling's.

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Sacrifices

Part Fifteen - Anticipation

`~`  
1

Dumbledore's reaction was grave, as Severus had expected. They both felt rather helpless. Indeed, they were helpless. They could only stand back and watch as many of the children they had taught, nurtured - well, perhaps Severus didn't exactly nurture them, but he taught them - were recruited into the dark side. Although some of the children showed a taste for darkness early on, most of them were bright-eyed and enthusiastic when they came to Hogwarts. Under the careful guidence of their parents, however, many were coerced into bitterness and prejudice. Even so, Dumbledore suspected that if given the chance, they would in time return to the light. If they were kept away from negative influence. Away from their family. That was something that neither Snape nor Dumbledore could offer them.

The situation was infuriatingly frustrating. Snape had in his possession information that affected the lives of many, and there was nothing he could do with it. Ideally, they would like to talk to the children and find out if any of them were willing to turn away from their parents. Those that were would be kept in the protection of wizarding families, of whose identity would be kept confidential. But there were many problems with this scenario. The children who remained loyal to the dark side would inform their parents. They, in turn, would wonder who had told Dumbledore of the subject of their meeting. Then it would fall back to Severus. He would need to go into hiding. The school would be the target of the deatheater's malice, and they would no longer have a spy to help keep the other children safe.

It felt like a never ending cycle of despair. They thought of many ideas, but it all came back to one thing: The safety of a few against the safety of the school. In the end, there was nothing they could do but resign themselves to the children's fate.

Severus felt like a coward. He felt like he was running away from responsibility. He felt like he should at least try to help some of the children reject the darkness. He was not reputed for being a particularly compassionate man. In fact, most of the students and a few of the staff reguarded him as cold, aloof, and bitter. For the most part this was true. Yet Snape knew what the children would experience if they became a part of the deatheaters. It was something he had lived through himself. He'd have to be nothing short of a monster to wish that fate onto anyone else. Not even his worst enemy. Not even Potter... Cold, aloof and bitter he may be. But a monster he was not. If given the chance he would rescue the children from their fate within the blink of an eye. Besides, it was the least he could do. If he was killed in the process, it would be nothing short of long overdue justice. At least in his mind, where he would always be guilty, always a murderer.

There were the other children to think about. That was the only thing that stopped him from going ahead with the plans in spite of the danger to himself. At that moment he hated his position. It was a position of power, although it was frequently a position of helplessness. It made him feel responsible, inadequate. Dumbledore always sensed this and tried to make it up to him, but after a while he realised that it only made Severus feel guiltier. So Severus was left to his despair, his self-hate. Today it felt worse than usual.

He gave out a lot of detentions that day.

`~`  
2

Although many of the other students in Slytherin recieved owls from their parents that week, Draco Malfoy didn't. While the other students gave mixed reactions from excitement to anxiousness, to ill-disguised fear, Draco Malfoy simply wondered what the news was, and why he didn't recieve it. The others wouldn't tell him. Even Crabbe and Goyle refused. They were, of course, under strict instructions from their parents not to discuss the information with anyone under any circumstances. Even though Draco was rather curious, though, his real attention lay in thinking about the Quidditch match. It was originally going to be played the next week. Since then, it had been moved up to just two days away. Draco was excited, and determined to show that Potter boy who was the better seeker.

Lucius Malfoy had requested that the match be brought forward. He didn't want his son to miss it, even if it was for being recruited into the deatheaters. It also gave him the perfect opportunity to tell him. While the other parents had to rely on owls to deliver the good news, Lucius was pleased that he would have the pleasure of seeing his son's reaction. He would be able to see the anticipation. The excitement. He remembered the day his own father had told him he was to be a deatheater. It was simply the proudest moment of his life.

The following day seemed to drag on and on for Draco Malfoy. He couldn't wait to get out onto the field. That night he lay in bed thinking about the day ahead of him. He couldn't sleep, he was simply to anxious. Like a small child the night before christmas, he reminded himself that the sooner he went to sleep, the sooner he would wake. The sooner the game would start. But then he'd think about the game again, and get butterflies in his stomach with bittersweet anticipation.

Crabbe and Goyle noticed that he wasn't sleeping. They asked if he was ok. Draco told them to go fuck themselves. They seemed stunned and climbed quickly back into their beds. Draco stifled a laugh. Pissing people off was so much fun. Tomorrow he'd do plenty of that. He was sure of it. But tomorrow he'd do it on the Quidditch field instead of with his mouth... of course he could always do a combination of the two. With that in mind he finally, blessedly, found rest.

----

Next chapter we'll finally get to the Quidditch match. I have yet to decide who's going to win. I'm hoping it'll be Draco. He deserves a break. But then again, I always sit down with a certain plan in mind, before being whisked away into something else. I'll cross my fingers for him.


	16. The Game Begins

A/N: It's been far too long between parts, and for that I'm really sorry. I hope I don't lose readers... I've been busy. I've had to write essays and do tests to qualify for the advanced english, maths, and physics courses for my Higher School Certificate; it's pretty important, so I had to make it a priority. I got a phone call today that informed me that I got into all my preferred courses, so woohoo!

Once again, thanks for all the lovely reviews.

I still own nothing. Damn.

----

Sacrifices

Part Sixteen - The Game Begins

`~`

Draco Malfoy could barely contain his excitement when he woke up. It was finally here. The day where he'd prove to Potter he was a better seeker. He wondered if his father might be there. Part of him hoped he would be. Quidditch meant a lot to his father. If he managed to beat Potter, then maybe his father would be pleased with him. Maybe he'd buy him the new firebolt. Of course if he lost... he stopped the trail of thought by focusing on the look on Potter's face instead. The look he'd have when Draco caught the snitch. Draco smiled to himself, lifting the covers and crawling out of bed. Today was going to be the best day ever.

`~`

Lucius Malfoy could barely contain his excitement when he woke up. It was finally here. The day when he'd be able to tell his only son that he could finally join the ranks of the dark wizards. He would no longer be a mere, worthless child. He would be a servant of the one true Lord. Lucius would finally be able to be proud of his son. Not that he wasn't already. Draco was certainly a powerful young wizard. Yet sometimes Lucius wondered if the boy was too soft. He had a habit of being disrespectful. Lucius punished him, of course. Any responsible parent punishes their child. How else are they supposed to learn? Yet with Draco... there was something about Draco that Lucius wasn't comfortable with. He guessed that it had something to do with that bumbling fool, Dumbledore. The other, inferior children at Hogwarts had no doubt poisoned Draco as well. Lucius guessed that if it wasn't for Severus Snape, Lucius would have lost Draco a long time ago to the rediculous notions of love, loyalty and equality. No matter. Once Draco was initiated, he was sure the boy would fall into line. Oh, and there was the quidditch match as well. Lucius grimaced. Draco had better beat that insolent Potter brat. He had never beat him yet, and it was becoming increasingly embaressing for Lucius. He lifted the covers and climbed out of bed. Quidditch win or not, today was going to be a grand day indeed.

`~`

When Severus Snape awoke from an uneasy sleep, he felt much the same as he had the past few days. Dread. Another day closer to the date when he would have to watch many of his students make the biggest mistake of their lives. The day when their fates would be shifted, turned onto a dark track. A track upon which many of them would perish. A track, in which all probability, none would escape from. A path that he himself had walked. He didn't want to leave his bed. Didn't want to get up, didn't want to face yet another day where he would have to relive his own mistakes through his pupils. He didn't want to have to pretend that he still walked that path. Severus Snape climbed out of bed. It was going to be a bad day. He could feel it.

`~`

Draco Malfoy wasn't surprised to see his father sitting beside his potions master in the grandstand. It was a common enough occurrence. Some of the other children's parents laughed and waved at their sons and daughters. Some of the children returned the favour, others looked embaressed. Draco's father didn't wave. He gave his son a brief nod, then returned to a conversation that he and Snape were having. Severus Snape looked stony-faced as usual, but he too favoured Draco with a brief nod, before returning his attention back to Lucius. Snape didn't seem to be saying much. Then again, when talking to Lucius Malfoy, there wasn't really much to say. All he really talked about was himself, Voldemort, and occasionally about his son - sometimes with pride, sometimes with quiet anger.

Severus wasn't exactly sure of how much more jabbering he could take from the cold man seated beside him. He had been quietly hoping that Lucius would be too busy planning the initiation, or performing some other service for Voldemort to go to the match. He should have known better. It was wishful thinking, and he knew it. Voldemort was certainly highest on Lucius' list of priorities, but Quidditch was important to him too. Not because he particularly enjoyed the game, but because it was another possible source of pride, another way to gain people's respect. Because once you hold someone's respect, you instantly have power over them. Like with fear. Lucius was good at extracting both from the people he met.

Severus didn't respect him. His mind, perhaps. He was intelligent. But he didn't respect *him*. All he felt was a disgusted, cold, and somehow disjointed fury. Much the same as what he felt for himself most of the time. The feelings he constantly pushed onto his students. Unfairly, of course, but what in life was fair? Part of his coldness was to keep up appearances as a spy. Most of it, though, was just who he was. Or how he felt. You can't hide everything. Not every emotion. Sometimes you have to convert it to something else, project it onto something else. And, damn it, some of those snotty brats really got on his nerves.

Severus suddenly realised that Lucius was looking at him expectantly. He growled out a throaty sound - neither negative or affirmative, and it seemed to please Lucius, for he continued.

"Yes, yes, it's definately the influence of the other children, mostly the muggleborns, but the Gryffindors too. I just don't know what to do with him sometimes. I tell him about the glory days, before the bratty Potter child, and he doesn't look at all inthralled. Sometimes he even looks as if he views it with distaste. I punish him, but I'm afraid it's not enough. He's too soft. That's why I think it's such brilliant fortune that the initiation is to be held so soon. It'll give him a more positive influence, away from Dumbledore, too..."

Severus purposely tuned out, whilst continuing to nod dutifully at the appropriate time. It was a skill that he had developed as a child when he had to listen to his father's ramblings. He wondered whether Draco Malfoy used the same trick. He hoped so. When you hear something too many times, you ca't help but start to believe it. Even if you don't want to.

`~`

Draco Malfoy stared hard at Harry Potter. Potter looked back at him defiantly. Draco had expected words to be exchanged, taunts. But now it just seemed out of place, inappropriate. The real mind games were all in the eyes. The tension mounted not with the harshness of verbal blows, but the silence, mounting, growing, taking up an almost physical presence between them. Neither blined, neither moved, they barely breathed.

And then the game began.

----

A/N: So sorry to leave it at such a bloody cliffhanger, but it's just the way I write. I know I said the game would be in this chapter, but I got to writing about Severus, and got distracted. He's just so bloody *interesting*.

I don't know when the next bit will be up, but I very much doubt it will take as long as last time. I'll try to get as much done before my full-time study starts up again.

Review and make my day. I really do love them :)

Oh, and forgive any errors. It's 2:30 AM, and I'm tired as hell.


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